


Anger Management [revised]

by SpicyChestnut



Series: Silent Princess Blooming [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Acting Out, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, Dancer!Link, Dancing, Drinking, Drinking Games, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Friendship, Hand Jobs, Humor, Memory 12, Never Have I Ever, Porn With Plot, Romance, Teenage Rebellion, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, zelink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25483051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyChestnut/pseuds/SpicyChestnut
Summary: In the morning, she felt despair; in the afternoon, frustration; and now, as night falls, she feels angry—furious and spiteful over all the criticism and cruelty she had been subject to. Screw her father and the court; she was done worrying over her failure to live up to expectations. Tonight, she would revel in that failure—and she would have the time of her life doing it.  // Tag to Memory #12. BoTW ZeLink AU. #1 of "Silent Princess Blooming" // REVISED VERSION. For original, see notes.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Silent Princess Blooming [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1000050
Comments: 19
Kudos: 198





	1. Admonition

**Author's Note:**

> This is the REVISED version of "Anger Management", the first installment of the "Silent Princess Blooming" series.
> 
> I originally wrote this story over 2 years ago, and since then I've grown a lot as a writer, and grown dissatisfied with many elements of the original text. Ordinarily I would just leave it alone as I've done for many of my other early fics; but since this story is part of an ongoing installment series, and since the later installments are (in my personal opinion) far and away better written than the first, I just couldn't seem to let that dissatisfaction go. 
> 
> Near the start of COVID quarantine in the spring I began to edit and revise the story, doing my best to retain its original plot, structure, and much of its dialogue; but refining the pacing, embellishing details, and adding bits from my original outline and notes that I had removed from early drafts or deemed not worthy of including. I suppose to summarize it more succinctly--I just felt, as it was originally written, it didn't do my vision for the story justice and I wanted to change that.
> 
> I agonized over this decision for a while. I knew I wanted to refine the story, but I didn't want to overwrite my own creative history. I also knew that there were many people who fell in love with the story in its original form, and I didn't want to take that away from them. After a lot of thought (and some supportive comments on Tumblr), I decided to go for it. I'm leaving the original story posted as-is, and publishing a new version of the story with the changes I wanted to make.
> 
> So that's what we have here. A new publication of the same story, edited and revised to be better than ever! Thoughts and constructive comments are, as always, appreciated. Please enjoy everyone, and thank you all for sticking with me on this ride!
> 
> [[Click here to read the original version]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077080/chapters/32431416)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a quick note before we begin. I don't believe I had decided on this until midway through the original publication of Anger Management back in 2018, but Link and Zelda are older in this story. Zelda is almost 18 (instead of almost 17) and Link is about 18 and a half. I had some internal debates about age of consent and drinking, and I finally just decided it was easiest to age them up by about a year.

Zelda walked along the bridge between her study and her chambers, Link’s heavier footfalls sounding behind her as she gazed with satisfaction out at the Guardian experiments taking place on the grounds below. The Sheikah researchers were testing independent movement today. The ancient scrolls they’d discovered buried along with the machines had offered some instruction, but so far it had been largely trial and error. After months of work, however, they were just beginning to reach a point of relative understanding. As the clanging and clinking of one of the guardians echoed up to her ears, she excitedly hurried towards the edge, leaning out over the parapet.

One of the Guardians was moving, following the Sheikah researcher in accordance with its programmed instructions. She smiled, feeling hope rise tenuously within her. It eased just a little of the pressure to know that their success wouldn’t be solely on her shoulders—that the incredible technology of their ancient ancestors would provide that much more peace of mind against the coming trials.

“Incredible… we’re at a point now where we can _actually_ control them. At the current rate, we’ll soon know all we need to know about the Guardians and the Divine Beasts!”

She turned to Link with an enthusiastic smile. He stood behind her, gaze fixed to the grounds below as he too observed the experiments. Though she knew unlocking her sealing power was still vital, she couldn’t help but voice some of her relief, unable to repress her smile.

“And should Ganon ever show itself again, we’ll be _well_ positioned to defend ourselves,” she asserted firmly; a soothing reminder perhaps moreso to her own anxious heart.

Link glanced at her, smiling as well; but the moment of peace was interrupted by a voice echoing sharply from behind her.

“What are you doing out here Zelda?

Her blood ran cold and she turned anxiously towards the reprimanding voice, hand instinctively raising to cover her heart. It was her father. He stood before her chamber doors, walking slowly towards her with a frown on his face. Her heart constricted with fear and shame; an unpleasant contrast to her earlier enthusiasm. She knew that tone of voice well—had heard it countless times over the past several years. He was not pleased.

As the King neared, she heard Link drop to the ground in a show of fealty; however, she forced her shoulders back and stood straighter, lowering her hand to her side. She would not show fear—she would not cow; she had done _nothing_ wrong!

“I…” her voice came out weak and so she paused, hands clenching into fists as she gathered her strength to speak with the regal authority she had been born and bred to show. “I was assessing the results of the experiments with the Guardians.” She moved away from the parapet, turning to face her father fully. “These pieces of ancient technology could be quite useful in the fight against the—“

“I know that.” His voice was calm—firm and authoritative, yet annoyance ran beneath the surface. She tried not flinch. “They are essential to Hyrule’s future and our research demands we keep a close eye on them. However…” His tone began to shift, and she sensed what little patience he had exhibited would soon be gone. “As the Princess you currently have a crucial unfulfilled responsibility to your Kingdom.”

She let out a small, pained breath.

“Let me ask you once more… when will you stop treating this as some sort of childish game?”

Despite knowing it was coming, his words hit her like a slap. Any hope or encouragement or relief she had felt watching the success of the Guardian experiments—any sense that maybe the world didn’t rest quite so fully on her shoulders—dissipated like smoke on the wind.

That old familiar weight she had so briefly escaped pressed down on her once more.

Her gaze fell to her feet as shame welled within her; yet a small part of her stubborn spirit remained outraged. Even if she knew it would amount to naught, she had to at least _try_ to defend herself—to make him understand what she had tried so many times to convey. She lifted her head and took a step forward, entreating him to patience—to empathy. Despite the pressure and the urgency he placed upon her, he was still her father… somewhere, deep inside.

“I’m doing _everything_ I can.” She forced herself to speak with a strength she did not feel, her fingernails digging crescents into her palm as she did so. “I’ll have you know that I just recently returned from the Spring of Courage where I offered every _ounce_ of my prayers to the Goddess—”

“And now you are here _wasting_ your time.” His voice was cutting, impatient and uninterested in her excuses. This time she did flinch. “You need to be dedicating every moment you have to your training! You must be single-minded in unlocking the power that will seal Calamity Ganon away.”

“I already am!”

She was desperate, her fear of failure—of the Calamity—mounting at his urgent insistence. What more could she do? She had dedicated her whole life to unlocking her sealing power, to no avail! Could she not at least be given a chance to help her kingdom in some less futile way? Could she not at least be useful elsewhere? She felt her eyes mist, but blinked it away. She _refused_ to show him weakness. “Don’t you see—there’s nothing more I can do! My hope… My hope is that you… That you’ll allow me to contribute here in whatever way I can—”

“No more excuses, Zelda!” His voice had risen several octaves, and she felt the last of her will to fight drain away. “Stop running away from your duty. As the King I forbid you from having anything to do with these machines from this moment on, and command you to focus on your training.”

He then turned from her, moving toward the parapets to gaze out over the grounds. She thought she might feel relief at the absence of his critical gaze, but instead felt only rejection.

“Do you know how the gossip mongers refer to you?” he asked, voice suddenly soft. She held her tongue—she did not trust herself to speak.

“They are out there at this moment, whispering amongst themselves… that you are the heir to a throne of nothing… nothing but failure.” Another pained breath escaped her, and she swallowed down the lump in her throat. Several moments of silence stretched on, and he gazed with faraway eyes beyond the castle grounds. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, full of an unspoken weight she felt only too keenly. “It is woven into your destiny that you prove them wrong. Do you understand?”

It took every last ounce of strength she had left to answer him; and when she did, her voice was hoarse and barely audible. “Yes. I understand.” She held her hands still, clasped before her to keep them from shaking and stared down at the stonework of the bridge unable to look at him. Without a word he turned and walked slowly away, past her guards and through her chamber door, retreating back into the castle.

She did not speak for several moments, merely stood unmoving as she forced the torrent of emotions writhing in her breast to stillness. Taking several deep breaths, she schooled her expression and walked forward slowly, demurely, heading through her chamber doors and down the spiral staircase. She moved silently towards her wardrobe and once Link had reached the bottom of the stairs she spoke softly, not turning from her task.

“Step outside, please, Link. I wish to prepare for prayer.”

She could feel his eyes on her as she gathered her dress and ceremonial jewelry, but did not turn to him, and did not speak further. After several moments she heard the dull thump of her chamber door—evidence that Link had finally stepped out into the hall—and only then, did she allow herself to cry.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Two hours later she knelt in the lush grasses before the castle shrine, Link’s back to her as she prayed; but her efforts were half-hearted. Still, she kept her hands clasped before her, head bowed and eyes closed as she recited devotionals in her head. At least her father would be pleased by how her precious time was being spent.

Yet as she reached her tenth verse, the words slowed to a crawl, and she released a frustrated breath. What was the point? She had been here for an hour already, going through the same tired motions she had a thousand times before. What good would praying here do if her attempts at the holy Spring of Courage had failed? Any time she had ever bothered to put forth any true effort, as she had at the spring, she was always met with failure. So why bother? Why waste her _time_?

She felt angry tears well in her closed eyes. It wasn’t _fair_ …

What more could she possibly _do_? She felt her blood boil as her father’s words repeated themselves in her head, only just resisting the urge to rip up the soft grasses. One could not simply transmute lead into gold—and neither could she simply unlock her sealing power with “single minded” determination. If she could, she would have by now. Her father didn’t understand. Nobody understood. Everyone acted as though she weren’t trying—as though there were some obvious solution she simply hadn’t bothered to attempt.

She took a steadying breath. Her anger was getting the better of her. Lifting her head, she briefly recited her final prayer aloud with more force than strictly necessary, then turned towards the bridge where Link stood, waiting. Glancing skyward she observed the sun on its descent towards the mountains. Yes, it was best she finish up early. Dinner wasn’t far off.

She resisted an angry grumble as she walked forward with put-on calm, heading down the path and toward the door which led back to the interior of the castle.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

“Announcing her Highness, Princess Zelda.”

She entered the dining hall with her head down, making a quick beeline for her seat and ignoring the courtiers who stood upon her entrance. Link parted from her by the door, taking his place beside the other royal guards at the back of the room.

“You are late, Zelda,” said her father as she settled into her seat, neatly tucking her royal gown under her as a servant pushed in her chair. The long table was already full, the courtiers seated and daintily cutting up their meals; a few, however, had paused and were staring down their noses at her. She avoided their gazes, keeping her hands clasped in her lap as she answered her father.

“Please pardon my lateness,” she offered quietly, “I spent the afternoon in prayer and lost track of time.”

Truthfully, she had been late as she’d needed a long walk through the castle gardens to cool her temper; but she rather thought he’d prefer the answer she gave him.

He did not respond, merely nodded at her and offered a faint grunt. He returned his attention to his plate, and so she turned her attention to hers. Inwardly, she sighed. Steak again… how she tired of her father’s obsession with meats. The royal physician had long ago warned against such a protein-rich diet as the one he preferred, citing fears for the health of his heart. He had ignored the man, of course.

But, how dare _she_ spend an afternoon observing guardian experiments she’d helped research? How dare she feel anything other than the weight of her failure? She felt her hands clench into fists in her lap. The unfairness of it all…!

It seemed her walk through the gardens hadn’t done quite as much to quell her temper as she’d hoped.

Taking a breath to ease the infuriated shaking of her hands, she delicately took hold of her utensils and cut into the steak without much interest. She enjoyed when Link cooked for her during their travels, and he often cooked meat; but his dishes were a mixture of meats, vegetables and grains, and the combination made for an enticing mixture of flavors and textures. Looking down at the large slab of steak, however, with a spiral cut of carrot as mere decoration… she stifled a grimace. It seemed she’d be ordering a meal sent up to her chambers again tonight.

It was as she brought a small cut of meat to her lips that she heard the first mealtime whispers. She’d long ago grown accustomed to dinnertime gossip among the courtiers, but the words she heard momentarily stilled the fork halfway to her mouth.

_“…was caught lounging in her chambers this afternoon. No wonder she hasn’t unlocked her power, she’s not even trying…”_

_“I heard the King even had to command her to focus on her training. Can you believe that? The destruction of the Kingdom isn’t even enough to spur her to act!”_

_“…ungrateful and spoiled; she hardly cares a whit.”_

Zelda forced the food into her mouth just so she could hide her angry snarl with chewing. Though she normally bore such whispers with more poise, she was still smarting from her father’s rebuke earlier in the day, and their words caused her to bristle with renewed resentment. They would dare to criticize her so soon after her return from a journey halfway across the kingdom for the very purposes of her training, while they sat here in their luxury and finery? They who lived on petty gossip as though it were sustenance and had never bore any serious responsibility or endured any such punishment as she had? The absolute nerve…

She stared hard at her plate as she forced herself to chew her food, though by now it tasted rather like stale bread. She swallowed, forcing the food past the lump in her throat, then closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She needed to calm down. After several deep breaths she felt her hands steady even if her anger remained ever-present, and picked her utensils back up to resume the facade of eating. However, she’d barely managed another bite before more yet whispers reached her ears.

_“I heard she’s been spending all her time fawning over her knight instead of training. We’ve all seen the way she clings to him…”_

_“Well I heard she’s been fooling around with him. She’s a harlot, just like that Gerudo woman, mark my words…”_

Her eyes nearly bulged as the barely-audible words reached her, heat suffusing her cheeks in a strange combination of embarrassment and fury. She—a harlot?! …What?! How could—how did—! She had dedicated the entirety of her life to the goddess-forsaken task of unlocking her powers! She didn’t even have _time_ for such things even if she desired them!

She only just managed to unobtrusively set down her knife and fork, the urge to throw them across the room nearly overtaking her good sense. She once more found herself staring at her plate, except instead of charbroiled brown, she was now seeing red.

How _dare_ they!

Perhaps, though, the words stung as they did because they contained a small grain of truth. Though she knew she’d never be granted such an opportunity, a small part of her did desire those secret intimacies—forbidden touches and heated kisses and pleasure of the kind the treated herself to but once in a blue moon. Her thoughts briefly flitted to a thin leather bound book she had pored over in secret so many years ago under the privacy of her bedroom late at night, dreaming…

That, and the object of their speculation certainly wasn’t one she found unattractive…

But despite her latent curiosity, she had always remained true to her duty and never once strayed from her path. The one personal interest she had allowed herself—an interest that had even served to help protect her people from the coming Calamity, had been taken from her just that afternoon. All her personal sacrifices went unacknowledged; instead naught but her failures and scandalous rumors carelessly mistaken for truth would be tolerated in the courtly discourse.

She dared not look up for fear of letting her fury be known to the courtiers, or worse, her father. She needed to leave. Her composure was hanging by a thread; she couldn’t bear another minute of this.

She chanced the briefest of glances to where Link stood along the wall with the rest of the guard. She was thankful, at least, that he was too far away to hear. Folding her napkin neatly and placing it beside her plate she carefully turned her head towards her father, speaking with as much calm as she could muster.

“Father, I am afraid I must excuse myself, I’m not feeling quite well. I shall be in my chambers for the remainder of the evening.”

Then, before he could voice objection, she pushed out her chair and made a slow but steady beeline for the door. She didn’t want to look _too_ eager to leave, lest she give the gossip-mongers more to talk about. Link followed after her, and once she made it into the privacy of the hall quickly straightened, walking with hasty strides in the direction of her chambers. She could feel Link’s curious eyes on her back but she said nothing, her thoughts still swimming with the courtiers whispers words.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

_“Raagh!”_

She threw the book across the room, face contorted into a snarl as the front cover of ‘The Book of Hylia’ ripped at the binding upon hitting the stone mantle of her fireplace.

Her chest was heaving and her shoulders shaking as the day’s insults washed over. She was immensely glad for having dismissed Link to his chambers early for the night, as an anger like she’d never known erupted within her. She felt it practically pouring from her ears. First her father’s scolding in the morning, then the fruitless effort of her prayers in the afternoon, and now the courtiers gossip at dinner. She could get no understanding, no sympathy for her desperate struggles! She picked up another book, this one her worn and dog-eared book of devotionals, and chucked it into the hearth where it landed on the burning logs and immediately caught fire.

‘ _Good. Let it burn,_ ’ she thought bitterly as she turned to pace the length of her room, seething. Everyone, even her own father, was so intent—almost _wanted_ —to see her as nothing but a pathetic, childish failure despite her ceaseless efforts to show them otherwise. Did they so desire someone to despise?

It was as she paced, this thought running on repeat in her head, that she had a sudden epiphany. She slowed her steps until she stood stock still before the fire, absently watching her book turn into a pile of ash. She was so furious that no one saw her efforts, that despite her sincerity and dedication to the task of unlocking her power—despite her commitment to molding herself into a good and caring future monarch—they could see nothing but her faults.

So… why keep trying? She would not give up trying to unlock her power, certainly—she was not so callous as to leave her Kingdom to the Calamity’s destruction; but why keep trying to uphold her image? Why keep trying to be mature and rise above the petty gossip? Why be thoughtful of the consequences of her actions when others would simple believed as they wished anyway?

Why keep putting off her own interests and desires when no one recognized the sacrifice anyway?

It was as she thought this that a plan began to form in her mind. For this first time since her father’s scolding, a smile crept onto her face; but it was a bitter, wicked smile. She was done being a Princess—done fighting against the disappointment and expectations of her father and the courtiers.

Tonight, she would instead simply be a seventeen year old girl; wild, self-interested, and heedless of the consequences of her actions.

And she would show them all what true failure could _really_ look like.


	2. Sneaking Out

Zelda stared at herself in the mirror, admiring her reflection with satisfaction as she placed the last pin in her hair. She looked utterly unrecognizable. Gone was the poised Princess of Hyrule, and in her place—a smirking commoner girl.

Though it had taken some work and no small amount of creativity to find appropriate pieces in her wardrobe, she’d managed to pull together a reasonable commoners outfit. She wore a long, short-sleeved, off-white cotton dress which normally served as the under-dress of her formal riding gown. The plainness of the dress was accented by a navy blue vest corset—designed to pair with her formal hunting attire, a set her father had insisted upon for tradition’s sake which she had, of course, never worn. A pair of simple brown leather boots peeked beneath the hem of her dress, completing the look.

She’d even gone so far as to die her hair. Royal garb and diadem aside, her long, sun-yellow hair was a common identifier to those of her subjects who had never seen her in person; for along with turquoise eyes, such a shade of blond was a feature well-known to women of royal lineage. Were she to wander about as she was, even in the most convincing of commoner attire her features would easily give her away; and her particularly pointed ears marking her as one of Hylia’s blessed would chase away any doubt her clever excuses might engender.

It had taken some creativity to concoct a serviceable dye on such a whim; but with a little trial and error, she managed to turn a few ingredients taken from the various plant and animal samples collected on her last field survey into a simple temporary hair dye. After a quick application, her widely-recognized sun-blond had been altered to the shade of rain-drenched soil—a deep, dark brown, bordering on black. She’d even gone a step further and pulled the newly darkened locks into a hairstyle she never wore: a thick bun at the base of her skull, with a few strands near her temple dangling freely to frame her face. With one of her most prominent features altered so dramatically, she rather thought she stood an excellent chance of escaping detection.

Outfit nearly complete and hair neatly done up, Zelda gave herself a pleased once-over. Yes, a whole new person, indeed.

It felt rather fitting. With what she was about to do, she didn’t want to be Zelda, or even look like Zelda. This ordinary, dark haired commoner girl who stared back at her—this was who she wanted to be tonight, not the crown Princess of Hyrule.

Turning from her mirror, she reached for the final part of her ensemble. From the back of a nearby armchair she grabbed a plain leather belt, buckling it loosely around her waist and securing a full coin purse to the leather. Then, she reached for a dark, floor-length cloak, casting it on and pulling up the hood to hide her face. With a final quick glance at the mirror, she strode resolutely toward the spiral staircase. She was ready.

Sneaking out would be tricky. She didn’t know the patrol routes in the dungeon—ordinarily she had no need to. She’d have to think on her toes; but if her plotted route worked as she hoped—and so long as she was quiet, quick, and cautious, she should be on the outskirts of Castletown within the hour.

At the top of the stairs she lowered herself into a crouch to avoid the atrium’s many windows, bunching up her skirt as she shuffled towards the outside doors. Though her chambers were mostly beyond the view of watch towers, one had a view of her bedroom and study, partially obscured by trees—and though chances were slim, she rather wished to avoid a stray guard taking note of her late night sojourn. Caution would be her closest ally tonight.

Her shuffle came to a stop as she reached the double doors, gently creaking one open just wide enough for her to fit through. Wiggling through the gap, she shut the door quietly behind her before darting into the shadows. The air was cool but not cold and the moon but a sliver, casting scant light over the nighttime landscape—much to her relief. She remained crouching as she slowly made her way along the bridge in the deep shadow cast by the parapets. As she reached the doors to her study she slowly pulled one open—no further than she had her bedroom door, before darting inside and closing it silently behind her.

She leaned against the wood a moment, inhaling shakily before breathing a sigh of relief, the soft sound punctuated by a laugh. She bent to dust off her knees; then with purposeful strides she crossed the room to her desk, grabbing a flame-less Sheikah lantern. With a flick she turned it on, holding it aloft to better light her surroundings as she searched for the edge of her area rug. Yanking back the nearest corner she dropped to her knees and began her search in earnest, carefully studying the wooden floorboards for the telltale marker she’d first read about years ago.

It took several long minutes, and she had nearly been ready to reassess her plans before she found it: three medium-sized knots in the wood, grouped together in a triangular pattern. Pressing her fingers against them she felt them give, then gripped the indentations and pulled upward. The trapdoor swung open immediately, gliding far more smoothly on its hinges than she had expected given the groaning squeal they made. But, she supposed, the Sheikah Guardians and Divine Beasts had functioned flawlessly after thousands of years—it seemed only fitting a trapdoor installed by the ancient Sheikah for an ancient Princess would also weather age well.

A ladder was secured to the stone wall of the passage, extending downward into darkness. Assessing her study briefly, she unfurled the rug, setting it against the open trapdoor so that it would fall back into place once she closed it behind her. Gripping the lantern’s handle between her teeth, she carefully lowered herself down into the dark passage. Once halfway, she grabbed hold of a metal ring on the underside of the panel and pulled, shutting the trap door behind her with a dull thump.

She grinned as she descended further, finally landing with an echoing _clop_ on a cold stone floor. She turned to face the the downward slope of the hidden spiral passageway, grinning. She’d be out of the castle before the next guard shift, and none would be any the wiser.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Link had a sinking feeling that something was amiss. He didn’t know what—or why—but somehow he knew things weren’t right with the Princess. He had contemplated speaking with the head of the castle guard, but what would he say? So far as he could see she wasn’t ill, he’d seen no evidence of Yiga scheming, and by her own word things were fine. What evidence did he have besides a gut instinct?

Ostensibly, the worst that could be said was that she’d been in an openly sour mood through much of dinner. But to his trained eye, he could tell she’d been distraught all day despite her good mood earlier in the morning. He knew why, of course—he’d been there to witness her father’s harsh rebuke. She had withered under his criticism like a delicate Silent Princess in the Gerudo desert heat; her beautiful smile fading, replaced by a pained frown. Part of him had wanted to say something, then—to rise from his knees and defend her. Her father needed to _understand_ , just as he understood, how hard she was trying despite the lack of results; but he was the _King_ before he was a friend’s father—and so it was not his place.

After, when she sent him out to change for prayer—though she probably wished otherwise, he heard her crying beyond the door. He had leaned heavily against it as her sobs echoed in the vast chamber, his forehead pressed to the wood and his hand hovering just over the handle. Part of him had wanted to go to her—to offer her comfort and assure her of the worth he knew she must be doubting; but she was the _Princess_ before she was his friend, and she had ordered him out—so it was not his place.

Though he knew prayer probably hadn’t helped her mood, their silent walk through the castle garden had seemed to lift her spirits, and briefly he had felt optimistic that the day might turn around for her; but then at dinner she departed early, making a hasty but silent retreat to her chambers, once again distraught by something. He didn’t know what happened during the short time she’d been seated at the long dining table; nothing looked amiss from across the room at least. But he knew something must have happened, and whatever it was, it upset her greatly.

When they arrived at her chamber door after her early departure from dinner, he’d been about to ask her if there was anything weighing on her mind; but before he could get the words out she stiffly dismissed him for the night and shut the door behind her without a backward glance. And so, once more, he had found himself leaning heavily against it as an unnerving silence emanated from beyond, his forehead pressed to the wood and his hand hovering just over the handle. But she was the Princess, and had dismissed him for the night—so it was not his place.

He was getting rather tired of not having a place.

He had returned to his room as ordered, but rather than settle in for the night he found himself pacing the length of his room in agitation. It was as he made yet another endless circuit an hour later that he finally came to a decision. Protocol be damned—something was wrong and he wasn’t going to pretend she was okay like the rest of the courtiers and councilman and nobles seemed content to. _He_ couldn’t just sit idly by and watch her tear herself to pieces while consoling himself with obvious falsehoods.

He reached for his cloak hanging off a chair near the door, forgetting his state of down-dress as he departed the room and softly closed the door behind him, heading decisively down the hall. He arrived at her chambers little over an hour after he had departed, and though the night was getting on it was likely she was still up—she tended to read by the fire for some time before bed. Glancing down the hall to check for any passing guards and spotting none, he steeled himself, knocking loudly on the door. He wasn’t entirely certain what he would say, but he knew he needed to just… see her. If for no other reason than to rid himself of the niggling worry in his gut.

He waited, but no response came. He knocked again, this time calling after her as he did so.

“Princess? It’s Link…”

He let his words hang, waiting—but they were met only with silence. If she had been asleep, she surely would not have hesitated to throw on a dressing gown and chastise him for interrupting her rest? If she wasn’t answering… The sinking feeling in his gut grew heavier, and he raised his hand to knock loudly once more.

“Princess? Princess!”

He waited… still nothing.

“Princess? I’m coming in!”

He waited out a count of three on the unlikely chance her lack of response was due to her bathing or changing (he tried not to picture that too vividly), before slowly opening the door and peering inside. The room was dark, with only the faintest moonlight filtering in through the windows to offer illumination. Yet despite the darkness, he could make out a vague lump on the bed. He felt momentary relief before his attention caught on the unusual shape of the figure beneath the sheets. Unease gripped him. It was far too large to be the Princess… He had spent enough nights camping with her in the wild to know otherwise.

He entered the room silently, shutting the door softly behind him, his heart beating faster. Something was wrong. Had she been kidnapped? _Goddess forbid_ …

He made his way over to the bed, footfalls silent on the plush rug. As he approached the four poster, now deeply regretting not bringing the master sword with him, he realized just what it was that was amiss. He’d been right to be suspicious; the Princess wasn’t here—it was simply a mass of pillows and clothes stuffed beneath the sheets.

What the _hell_ was going on?

Heart beating hard within his chest, he glanced anxiously around the room—searching for signs of a break in or struggle. Finding none, he rushed toward the spiral staircase, taking the steps two at a time as quietly as he could. When he reached the second floor, he glanced about; nothing out of place up here either. He glanced to the outer doors, a thought suddenly occurring to him. Perhaps she was in her study? Oh, he _prayed_ she was only in her study. But that still didn’t explain the pillows in her bed….

He rushed silently to the doors, cracking one open and taking a cursory glance out at the bridge. His heart nearly thudded to a halt as relief washed over him. The Princess was shrouded in a dark cloak, only her face visible in the dim moonlight as she crouched in the shadows of the parapets, working her way slowly towards her study. As he observed her more closely, however, his relief gave way to confusion. While he was eased to know she was unharmed… what in the world was she _doing_?

He watched raptly as, with careful movements, she cracked the door to her study and slipped inside, closing it quickly behind her. Link didn’t wait to see if she re-emerged before making to follow. Whatever she was doing, she clearly wanted it to remain a secret, and though he preferred to respect her privacy and give her the space she needed, this… was different. Zelda was open and honest and entirely too predictable; she was a rule follower to a fault, and tended not to keep secrets. At least, that was what he knew her to be. To see her sneaking about like this—and in her own chambers no less… it was far outside her normal behavior, and set alarm bells shrieking in his head.

He slipped out onto the bridge, shutting the door behind him as he snuck his way across to her study door, shrouded in the shadows. He pressed an ear to the wood, straining to hear any noise beyond. He heard nothing for several minutes; then, suddenly, he heard a metallic groaning. Hinges, maybe? But there were no other doors in the room, and the windows were up far too high for her to reach without a ladder…

Deciding to risk exposure, he quietly opened the study door a crack and peered inside—and his eye widened with shock. The Princess held aloft a Sheikah lantern, her dark hood fallen back to reveal… black hair? And her rug was hastily pulled back in a pile on the hard wood. She was leaning over a dark hole in the floor, a wooden panel on hinges pulled open at an angle to the ground.

... _What_?!

There was a trap door in her study?! Since when! He knew every secret passageway, entrance, and chamber the castle had! When he’d been appointed her personal guard, he’d been given a thorough review of them by the head of the castle guard—standard procedure for those assigned to the safety of a member of the royal family. There had been no records of a secret passage in the Princess’ own study; he knew—he reviewed every blueprint on record! Hadn’t he?

The Princess turned her back to him, rearranging the rug before climbing down a ladder on the wall of the passageway’s interior, the lantern clenched between her teeth. Once she was half-submerged in the darkness, she grabbed a metal ring on the underside of the trap door and yanked, pulling it and the rug back to the floor and sealing the passageway as though it had never been there.

Link stared, dumbfounded, at the section of rug that hid the passageway the Princess had just disappeared through. What the _hell_ was going on?!

Snapping out of his stupor, Link quickly entered the study and shut the door behind him. Whatever she was doing, he was about to find out; like hell he would let her go gallivanting into the unknown on her own. Lifting the rug back, he ran both hands over the floor, searching for some evidence of the passageway door. He vaguely felt what could be the edges of the trapdoor, but it was several more moments before he found what he was looking for. As his fingers grazed over a cluster of knots in the wood, he felt one give way to the pressure of his fingertips. Pausing, he pushed on it again, then the ones around it, feeling all three give under the pressure. Sticking a finger on each, he pushed down, pressing his fingers against the wood and pulling up. That did the trick.

The panel swung up and he pulled it open slowly so as to avoid the squeaking of the hinges. He wouldn’t take a lantern—it wouldn’t do to alert the Princess of his presence before he’d discovered her intentions. He quickly clambered down the ladder so as not to lose her and pulled the trap door slowly, carefully closed behind him. He landed lightly on a stone floor, extending his arms to feel cold stone walls on either side. He was in a fairly narrow passage, and judging by the angle of his feet it sloped downward.

With slow, silent footsteps he made his way down the passage, following the faint echo of light from the Princess’ lantern much farther ahead. Wherever she was headed, he would follow; and whatever she was up to, he would soon find out.


	3. The Fang and Bone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, there is somewhat of a soundtrack to the tavern scenes. I wrote them to a song called "Saddle the Pony", a traditional Irish jig. [You can listen to it here.](https://youtu.be/xmQx3cXc0vk)

As she crested the cliff-side path leading up from the moat—leaving the castle’s oppressive halls behind, she felt elation bubble up within her. Before her lay the outskirts of Castletown, the city center alight in the distance. Rarely had she the opportunity to wander Castletown’s diverse and fascinating districts. Nothing here pertained to her training nor her studies with the ancient tech, and so there was rarely sufficient reason for her to waste time exploring despite her quiet curiosity about Hyrule’s bustling metropolitan heart.

But tonight was different. Tonight she was free—really, truly, free! She wasn’t the Princess or the bearer of a divine power, she was just… Zelda; a seventeen year old girl who had been denied the pleasures of an ordinary life for far too long. Scarce were the occasions in which she had been permitted to indulge in her own academic interests—even those which stood to benefit her people. Indulging the indecorous leisure activities of the lower classes, for whatever thoughtfully justified reason, was never even a possibility.

But tonight, for the first time in her life, she was going to change that.

She glanced skyward to observe the sliver of a moon, inhaling crisp evening air with the relish of victory. The night was young and entirely hers. She had a vague plan—a list of things she’d always wanted to try, but it felt exhilarating to know she could just… change her mind on a whim, or follow some unexpected opportunity should it pique her interest. There was no schedule to keep, no people to please, no retinue to weigh her down. A grin split her face and she couldn’t help but spin with joy, arms thrown wide as she reveled in this new and foreign freedom. How had it taken her this long to do something like this?

She wasted little more time before heading south, stepping carefully down the hillside path until she reached the rural outer limits of West Castletown. The windows and porches of modest farmsteads twinkled warmly with amber lamplight against the darkened landscape, complemented only by a line of dim lamps illuminating the road. Barns and the odd chicken coop, however, stood out as little more than dark shadows in the night. Pens were absent their resident cows and goats, who instead lay sleeping beneath the shelter of lean-to’s. It was as peacefully agrarian as one could get so close to the city—a sight Zelda had not seen outside of the sweeping fields of Hateno or the sprawling ranches of the plains.

After some minutes leisurely walking, shadowy buildings became visible in the distance. She continued walking, and as the neared found the dirt path to cross a wider road of rough cobblestone—the two converging on a small fountain plaza in the center of a cluster of homes. It was a modest imitation of the massive fountain in Central Plaza at the heart of Castletown, near which her destination was located. If her cartographic memory served, this road was one of the main thoroughfares leading straight to the inner ring of the city; and so she turned down the cobbled road, heading east.

The outskirts of the city proper were filled with old buildings in mismatched styles born of the last few eras. Though worn with age and occupation they were lovingly tended; the smooth wood of a newer shutter contrasting oddly with an older weathered one framing the same window, a freshly painted door beneath a sagging eve. She was accustomed to the flawlessly manicured architecture of the castle, but found the tender if haphazard care of the outer district quaint and charming in its own right. 

Her journey was quiet and few others wandered the streets so late at night, leaving her largely to her own thoughts; though she did offer a polite nod to the occasional passing stranger. A small part of her thrilled at their ordinary, inattentive reply, focused far more on their journey home than jumping to offer her needless posturing and kowtow. It was a breath of fresh air—and a pleasant reminder that none would know (or care) if she let her mask of manicured pedigree fall.

After a while the older buildings began to give way to newer construction: uniform half-timber row houses in the architectural style Castletown was best known for. Brightly colored doors, enclosed front patios with small gardens and dining tables, and clotheslines criss-crossing above the road served as hallmarks of the residential district, and her entrance into the outer ring of the city.

But these too soon gave way to taller buildings, built closer together and closer to the street. Hanging shop signs and bay windows replaced small yards, crowding out the space where patios and gardens once stood to showcase baked goods and tools and dresses of the latest styles. She had finally reached the commercial district—the second ring, and where she would find her destination. Though most of the stores she passed were shuttered for the night, she remained unconcerned; where she planned to go would be open late into the night. 

She hurried down the dimly lit cobblestone street, eager to arrive. Movement caught her eyes as she passed the mouth of a narrow alley; a group of sweaty, late night laborers carried enormous sacks off a cart and into the side entrance of a shop. She grinned as she passed, waving jovially to one of the men leaning against the cart, whose eyes followed her as he gave a nod of the head. Oh, if the court could see her now… such casual fraternization with the working class. Ha!

Ahead she spotted a wooden sign post swinging gently in the breeze above a large wooden door, illuminated by the faint light of the street lamps. In blocky font it read: ‘The Fang and Bone’. Though she knew little of Castletown beyond her studies in trade and city planning, she’d long known about this existence of this particular tavern. It was frequented by many in the royal guard. Run by a kindly if peculiar man named Kilton—a retired captain of the Hyrulean Military, it had a reputation for good food and drink at a reasonable price, as well as excellent musical entertainments. It seemed as good a place as any to try out the commoner lifestyle.

With her full coin purse jingling on her hip and excitement welling within her, she increased her pace. She had never felt more ready to shed the demands of her title. From her earliest memories she had been strictly held to tenets of practicality and decorum and considerations of the greater good over her own desires. Never had she been able to let her guard down and simply be…. well, seventeen. Tonight she could just… have fun, try new things, and not second-guess her every action; could pretend for a little while that she wasn’t such a miserable failure—that she was just an ordinary girl out doing ordinary, if perhaps somewhat foolish, things.

But foolish was good. She’d never in her life been given a chance to try her hand at foolishness. Once she got there, perhaps she would find a handsome young man to sit and chat with, and maybe… maybe he would even give her a kiss; or maybe _more_ … A faint blush peppered her cheeks and she bit her lip at the scandalous thought, a smile working its way to her face.

So immersed was she in her imaginings that, as she passed a dark, narrow alley, she didn’t notice the hand which shot out of the shadows to wrap around her arm until it was too late. It yanked her into the darkness, smothering her mouth before she could utter a sound. Her body jerked violently and adrenaline surged within her as excitement was quickly replaced by fear. She was pinned against the wall with surprising gentleness, the hand at her mouth muffling her startled gasp.

Her heart was thundering and her legs felt weak. Though her brain told her to struggle against her assailant’s hold, to push them away and run back to the castle as quickly as she could, her body was frozen by fear and shock—not unlike when she’d been at the mercy of the Yiga. Had she made a terrible mistake?

Her assailant was a hooded figure barely discernible in the darkness. One arm pinned her to the wall by her shoulders and the other covered her mouth. Briefly releasing the hold over her mouth, the figure quickly pulled his hood down to reveal a young Hylian man with blond hair and blue eyes; and suddenly the scream which had been crawling up her throat died on her tongue.

She stared and blinked in bafflement as Link stared back at her. He held a finger to his lips before his gaze darted briefly back to the road. Hers followed, landing on a shady looking pair of men with beady, predatory eyes who shambled by—clearly looking for her. She recognized one of them as the laborer she had waved at in passing.

Once the men moved out of sight, Link’s attention returned to her. He looked at her, hard, with a strange combination of bewilderment and accusation before he finally spoke.

“What do you think you’re _doing_?” he whispered, leaning closer. She remained silent for a moment, her mind still struggling to process that her assailant was none other than her appointed knight who, up until now, she’d felt certain she’d left behind at the castle; and that he had possibly just saved her from a dangerous situation. Again.

How was he _here_? How did he _know_ … How did he even _get out of the castle_?!

“Link?” she uttered incredulously. At the sound of his name he released her, taking a small half-step back.

“It’s not safe to be wandering Castletown alone at night… what are you—why are you even here? How did you…?” his sentence trailed off, that bewildered look back in his eyes and confusion heavy in his questions.

Her earlier good cheer quickly faded as the sudden shift of circumstances hit her. Though it had been a close call with the two men and she should be grateful, she felt resentful nonetheless. She would have been _fine_ if she could have just been permitted to _make it to the tavern_! For despite the fact that she had, against all likelihood, managed to leave the castle undetected, and leave her burdensome responsibilities and her father’s endless criticism behind her, she couldn’t seem to escape _him_ —he who had achieved his destiny with such ease; he who was the starkest reminder of her failure. And now here he stood, intruding upon her newly-gained freedom without a hint of remorse. Though she no longer held him personally responsible for managing to pull the sword with so little difficulty— _still_! It was just… cosmically unfair! It was as though fate were punishing her for her willful disobedience to its designs. _‘Thought you could escape your destiny, did you?’_ It seemed to mock, _‘Think again!’_ Feeling soured, she crossed her arms and glared at him with a harsh frown.

“That’s _none of your concern_. Return to the castle and leave me be.”

She made to turn and head out the alley but he caged her with his arms. When she ducked under them, he grabbed hold of her shoulders and pinned her once more to the wall.

“Princess, I can’t let you do this!” he hissed frantically. His eyes were wide and worry was creeping into them; but she pointedly ignored his concern and buried deeper into her self-righteous anger. She glared at him with all of her repressed fury, a brow arched at the unwanted reminder of her position, and she was pleased to see him wither under her gaze. She spoke coldly and with a tone that brokered no argument, pulling herself to her full height.

“I am not asking your permission. I intend to go about my business and you _will not stop me_.”

His expression softened, but he did not release his grip on her.

“You’re going to the Fang and Bone, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, and the look in his eye told her he already knew the answer.

“I am.”

“ _Why_?”

His question caught her off guard for a moment, but when she managed an answer it was with the same angry, determined superiority.

“Because… because why not?! I can’t seem to do anything right, so I’m just… going to do the opposite. I’m going into that tavern and I’m going to order some drinks and I’m going to have fun, and I don’t care whether you like it or not or whether you think its safe. You can insist on following me if you must or you can go back to the castle, but you’re _not stopping me_.”

Then, with a forceful shove of her shoulder she pushed past his arm and headed for the mouth of the alley, turning onto the road and closing the remaining distance to the tavern without looking back. In short order she arrived at the entrance and gazed up at the building, feeling a little of her frustration recede as the object of her fixation loomed tall before her, right within her grasp. Despite Link’s interference, she felt as determined as she had when she’d left the castle. She still wanted to do this— _was_ going to do this.

A bay window with tudor-style glass jutted into the street, and a large wooden door stood next to it, below the sign—and Zelda found herself staring down at the metal handle, feeling anticipation and a hint of nervousness rise within her. She placed her hand on it, ready to walk in and begin her night of revelry when she felt a presence next to her. Quickly turning her head, she saw Link standing silently at her side. He didn’t say anything and didn’t make to stop her, merely stared with an inscrutable expression.

Well…!

She honestly hadn’t expected him to join her. A small, frustrating part of her felt kind of glad for his company—especially after that close call in the street. Well, so long as he didn’t ruin her night… She turned back to the door with a smile and pushed down on the handle. With a determined air she walked into the warm, noisy tavern. Link followed closely behind, the door swinging shut behind them.


	4. Loosening Up

The interior of the tavern was warm and inviting. A wooden beam ceiling stretched lengthwise above her head and hefty plank floors—scuffed by patrons and the drag of heavy chairs, lay beneath her feet. Opposite where she stood by the entrance a long, curved bar jutted out from the wall and a handful of people sat atop stools haphazardly arranged before the smooth wooden counter. It had clearly been a fine establishment once, built of quality materials and careful craftsmanship. Now, though, it was given to age; yet despite the evident abuses it had suffered over the years, seemed to receive tender care nonetheless.

The tavern was by no means crowded, but the room was filled with voices and the bustle of activity—plenty enough that Zelda would easily blend into the background. Patrons wove between tables en route to the bar with varying levels of grace, carefully skirted by the odd barmaid. They were clustered around the spacious room in groups of varying sizes: a group of weary quarry laborers relaxing at a large round table in the center of the room, several scraggly veterans sipping quietly on mugs of ale by the window, and a handful of couples laughing with each other in booths surrounding the dance floor, at the head of which a three piece band was setting up. The couples eyed the musicians with eager anticipation.

Zelda, however, was most interested in the bar.

Making a beeline across the room, she sought out an empty segment of the counter and determinedly pulled out a stool, sitting daintily upon it and smoothing out her skirt. She pulled back her hood as the bartender, a portly middle-aged gentleman with a friendly smile, walked over to her after delivering a mug of ale to a slouching man on the other end. He leaned heavily on the counter towards her as Link slid onto a stool beside her.

“What can I get ye’s?” he asked, glancing between the two of them.

“Um…”

She stalled, thinking quickly. She hadn’t quite planned this far ahead. The only drinks she was familiar with were the wines and champagnes consumed at castle banquets and feasts, and she knew those to be of the finest quality—and as a result, of the highest price and exclusivity. They were unlikely to be served here. But overheard banter from unsuspecting guards floated to mind, and an idea occurred to her. She smiled, gleefully anticipating Link’s reaction as she turned and spoke to the bartender, mustering the gruff bravado she remembered overhearing.

“Something to get me good and fucked up,” she huffed, leaning forward onto the counter with forced nonchalance.

The man quirked an eyebrow at her but didn’t question her request, instead turning to the rack of glasses and bottles behind him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Link gaping at her, and couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with herself. After a moment the bartender turned back to the pair with a bottle of light amber liquor in hand, placing it on the bar before them.

“Yeh want just a glass or the whole bottle?” he asked wryly, and his tone made Zelda distinctly suspect the man doubted the seriousness of her intent. Annoyance momentarily flared to life and she eyed at him with more than a touch of superiority.

“The whole bottle.”

His amusement seemed only to increase with her answer. “If yeh want the whole bottle ye gotta pay upfront.”

His tone and expression—and the manner in which he refused to remove his hand from the neck of the bottle, clearly indicated he doubted she would be able to abide the demand, and that only served to irritate her further.

“How much?” she asked in clipped tones.

“Hundred and twenty rupees.”

She resisted the urge to scoff. Without a word she dug into her coin purse and extracted the smallest rupees she had, two silver, and placed them on the counter. She then smiled up at the man, offering a smug and succinct, “Keep the change.”

The barkeep’s amused skepticism quickly faded into wide-eyed surprise. He scooped up the rupees, a grin on his face as he responded with a good deal more friendliness.

“Thank ye, miss!” Gleefully, he deposited the rupees into a register, then reached under the counter and placed two small glasses on the smooth wood . “Can I get ye anythin’ else? Maybe summat ta eat?”

“Two baked apples and some roast chickaloo tree nuts, please,” replied Link’s gentle voice beside her.

The man nodded to him, grin still in place. “No problem—lemme know if I can get anythin’ else for ye.” With a final broad smile he then turned and disappeared into the doorway at the far end of the bar.

Zelda swiveled on her stool to eye him, quirking a brow. He merely shrugged in response.

“You’re going to want some food in your stomach if you intend to, how did you put it…” He scrunched his nose in distaste. “…‘get good and fucked up’,” he finished mildly.

Though she could tell his comment was by no means approval of her actions, she couldn’t help but feel a little gratified at his willingness to go along with her plan instead of trying to talk her into returning to the castle. She’d been prepared to fight him on it, but was glad it seemed she wouldn’t have to. Feeling emboldened, she unstoppered the bottle of amber liquid and filled her tiny glasses with a giddy smile. She lifted it to her lips and sniffed. It had an odd, astringent sort of smell, though she also picked up more pleasant, earthy notes.

Bringing the glass to her lips she took a small sip and immediately gagged, struggling to set it down without spilling the drink all over her hand as she coughed. Link patted her gently on the back, his unfazed expression suggesting he expected the reaction. She swallowed down the harsh, bitter aftertaste, eyes watering as she cleared her throat. She glared at him, daring him comment.

“What?” she asked waspishly.

He simply shook his head as the bartender returned, setting a plate with their food in front of them.

“Enjoy! Holler if ye need anythin’,” he said with a smile, then turned sharply, scurrying off to tend to another, far more drunken patron down the bar who was slurrily demanding his attention.

Link picked up the plate in one hand and the bottle in the other as he nodded at the two glasses on the counter for her to retrieve.

“Let’s get a booth. More private.”

Zelda complied wordlessly—it was probably a wise idea anyway, picking up the glasses and following after him as he wove his way between obstacles to a small booth at the far end of the tavern, mostly hidden from view. His discreet choice was not lost on her. He settled into one side and Zelda settled into the other, setting down the glasses as he placed the plate and bottle in the middle of the table between them.

As she arranged the glasses—one before each of them, the sudden keening notes of a fiddle filled the tavern. The band had started up, a folksy tune beginning their set and rivaling the steady thrum of conversation for control of the room. Zelda sighed, relaxing into her seat as the scene set around her. A young girl, enjoying a night out with a friend—food and drink at hand, music… she smiled. It was so… simple, such ordinary fun; and she was, for the first time in her life, part of it.

She began to feel a little more at ease as the sense of anonymity settled around her like a cloak—and a little more emboldened. She reached once more for her drink, lifting the glass to eye level and gazing at it critically before bringing it to her lips for another quick taste. She was prepared this time for the sharp burn and managed to gag only a little; and though it still burned the back of her throat, she was able to keep herself from coughing. The comfortable amusement in Link’s eyes was still present, and it suddenly occurred to her how familiar, how… at home with all this he seemed. The tavern was popular among the royal guard… She set the glass down, eying him thoughtfully.

“Have you been here before?”

He nodded, gazing around the room and out at the slowly filling dance floor, but didn’t elaborate. When several more seconds of silence stretched on, she inquired further.

“You… don’t strike me as a bar fly.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been dragged here a few times by the other soldiers.”

She eyed him curiously. “Do you drink with them often?”

His sweeping gaze slowed and he finally turned to her, expression growing curious as he eyed her thoughtfully. “Why all the questions?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “Am I not allowed to be social?”

He stared at her with calculating deliberation a moment before mirroring her posture and leaning back against the booth. “Okay… a question for a question. Sound fair?”

She was about to say yes, but bit her tongue, considering him carefully. While they were, ostensibly, friends, Link had always been somewhat reserved. Often, when they had a more light-hearted moment to relax, he listened and she talked. She’d often asked about him, and he did frequently answer—but with limited information shared in few words. For him to offer such openness was a prospect she would never pass up—and thus, it made her suspicious. It seemed he was fishing for something. But he’d already caught her…

She didn’t have anything further to hide, so… where was the harm?

She lifted her glass to her lips she took another small sip, grimacing as she swallowed it down. The liquid settled warmly in her stomach, and she could feel a sort of looseness beginning to permeate her limbs. At least it was getting easier to drink as time went on; It certainly felt good.

“Alright,” she conceded, “A question for a question; but I go first.”

He nodded.

“Do you drink with the other soldiers often?” she repeated.

He eyed her a moment before answering simply. “No.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but when more information was not forthcoming, she glared at him, a silent demand in her gaze. He quickly relented, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

“Okay, okay. I’ve been dragged here a few times, but I don’t usually stay long. Not really my thing.” He then offered a half-smile. “My turn.”

She nodded for him to proceed.

“Your hair?” he asked, gesturing at the dark strands framing her face. She smiled. She was wondering if he would ask about that—it was kind of difficult not to notice, especially now they were out of the dark street. She responded with no small amount of pride.

“I developed a rudimentary temporary hair dye in my study with some of the samples we picked up on our last field survey. I felt I would be too recognizable as I am were I to wander around Castle Town.”

He nodded, smiling approvingly. “Definitely safer.”

She grinned at him across the table, appreciating the praise. Cocking her head, she contemplated her next question. The drink in her hand provided the inspiration.

“Have you ever been drunk?”

He quirked a brow at her, a smile in his eyes as he gazed at her with quiet amusement. “No. My turn.”

She frowned. It wasn’t quite as exciting an answer as she’d hoped—she’d always seen Link as rather more experienced and worldly, given all the traveling he had done throughout his life; but she sat back in the booth nonetheless and took another small sip of her drink, swallowing down the last of the burning liquid as she nodded for him to continue.

“Why are you doing this?”

…Ah. There it was.

She sighed, feeling some of her fun bleed out. She was just starting to enjoy herself, she really didn’t want to have to explain… the _why_ ; didn’t want to have to think back on the day’s abuses.

“I don’t want to talk about that, Li—“

She stopped, realizing suddenly how foolish it would be to use their real names should they be overheard, regardless of her hair color. Thinking quickly, she picked the first name to come to mind—an obscure name from her most recent reading, a mythology text of Hyrule.

“—Ravio.”

Actually, she thought the name rather suited him.

He raised an eyebrow at her, expression unamused. Oh yes, It was perfect. With a grin she leaned forward and whispered, “It would be unwise to use our real names. So I’ll call you Ravio and you can call me… Hilda.”

“Hilda,” he repeated flatly. She nodded, grinning in response to his chafed expression and enjoying yanking his chain more than she’d thought she would. “Yes, Ravio. Hilda.”

“Okaaay… Hilda. You still didn’t answer my question.”

She leaned back, the humor of the moment quickly fading. She let out a breath. He hadn’t been thrown by her distraction, not that she’d really thought he would be. And knowing him, he wasn’t going to just let this go. It also struck her as likely that this question was the reason he’d offered an exchange of queries in the first place. Though she didn’t really want to talk about it, she supposed it might be better to get it over with, and not drag out his insistent pestering. She reached out for a couple chickaloo tree nuts, popping them in her mouth and chewing somewhat forlornly before answering.

“I just…” she sighed, tugging on the sleeves of her cloak as she stared down at her hands on the table. “I want to forget for a night that I’m such a miserable failure—forget that I have responsibilities and obligations I can’t fulfill and just… have fun, and make mistakes, and try new things like anyone else my age would. I just want to not be the Princess of Hyrule for a night.” She lifted her head sadly to meet his gaze. “Is that so much to ask for?”

He looked at her—really looked at her, and after a moment released a breath, running a hand distractedly through his hair.

“Honestly?” he asked, eying her warily for permission. She nodded. “For… you,” he continued slowly, “Yes, It is too much to ask for. I’m in the same position. But…” he paused, furrowing his brow as he considered at her “I… understand. And I won’t stop you.”

She stared at him, struggling to process his unexpected words. He was… sanctioning this? Or, well, as much as he could. It’s not like he could really stop her, but he could make the evening a lot less enjoyable if he chose to. After several silent moments, she smiled, and it quickly grew wide.

“Just this once,” he followed up quickly, eying her hard, “and you’re _not leaving my sight_.”

Her grin was nearly painful, such was the relief and excitement she felt at his words. With a flourish she reached for the bottle of fire whiskey, filling his glass and refilling her own. She grabbed it and lifted it between them.

“Well then, shall we toast?” she waggled her glass a little and he glanced between her face and it, eying her warily.

“I… don’t think I’d be quite as capable of doing my job if I’ve been drinking.”

She scoffed. Though she knew she might be pushing her luck, she couldn’t help the petulant words that came out of her mouth. “If you’re going to insist on being my shadow all night the least you could do is not be a… a…” she struggled for the right word, coming up frustratingly empty. Instead it was Link who supplied it.

“A buzzkill?” he asked with amusement.

“Yes! A buzzkill. So here—“she lifted his glass and thrust it into his hand and he grabbed it instinctively. He eyed her, then the glass in his hand, then her again before furrowing his brow and placing it back on the table.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Zelda frowned, setting her glass on the table with perhaps a little more force than necessary.

“Ravio!” she huffed, crossing her arms, “As your—” she paused, glancing around their booth before lowering her voice and leaning forwards, “As… who I am, I order you not to be a stick in the mud! If you are going to be staying then do be sporting about it.”

She reached for her glass and lifted it again, eying him with a pointed glare. Once more Link glanced to her, then to the glass on the table, then back to her before releasing a sigh and running a hand down his face in an uncharacteristic gesture of defeat. He eyed her a moment longer before finally lifting his glass and extending it forward.

She grinned in triumph, tipping her glass forward to touch his with a soft clink before bringing it to her lips. Link, however, did not drink right away. He held her gaze significantly for several long moments before downing his glass in one gulp, showing no signs of the distaste she had. Her eyes widened and she set her half empty glass back on the table, staring at him in surprise.

“For the record,” he said with a just a hint of smug superiority, “These are shot glasses, not tumblers, and _that_ is how you drink a shot. Nobody _sips_ a shot, especially not Goron Fire Whiskey.”

She gazed at the brown liquid inside the bottle curiously, choosing for the moment to ignore his teasing criticism. “Is that what this is?”

He nodded, a ghost of a smile quirking his lips as he reached for a handful of chickaloo tree nuts. “Yeah. It’s good stuff, too. I don’t think the bartender was expecting you’d be able to pay for it.”

She reached forward for the bottle, turning it to read the label; but there were no words, only a large red flame painted on the black paper sleeve.

“Okay, Ravio,” she commented, setting the bottle down. “I believe it’s my turn for a question. How did you find me?”

An odd mixture of sheepishness and pride flitted across his face. “I, uh… followed you, out of the castle.”

Zelda’s eyes widened with surprise. He had _followed_ her? She hadn’t even noticed him! And she’d certainly been trying to keep an eye out for such things. Though, really, she supposed that was to be expected. He hadn’t been chosen to be her personal guard without good reason.

“I… wanted to check on you,” he continued, “You seemed particularly upset after dinner and I just… had this feeling…”

Zelda scoffed. “A feeling that made you think you could enter the Pri— _my_ , chambers uninvited on a whim?” Though her words were harsh, her tone was more curious than critical.

He smiled apologetically, though the look in his eyes said he wasn’t really sorry. “Well, when I entered your room the only thing in it was a pile of pillows tucked into your sheets, and when I went upstairs to see if you were there I saw you sneaking into your _own_ study, so clearly I was on to something.” He then cocked his head as he furrowed his brows. “What I don’t understand, though, is how you knew about that hidden passageway? Even I didn’t know about it.”

Zelda smiled. She was admittedly pretty proud of herself for managing to cobble together her vast knowledge of the castle into a solid, functional plan of escape in a single evening.

“Well… you learn a lot digging through the castle library over seventeen years,” she responded lightly.

Link raised an eyebrow before, slowly, a laugh bubbled up like the waters of a spring. It was soft and melodic, yet tinged with a low timbre that caused something within her to stir. He leaned back in his seat as he eyed her, impressed. She smiled softly as she took him in, relaxing in his seat with a casualness she’d seldom seen him exhibit in front of her. The dim light hit his face just right, accentuating his angular jaw and the tilt of his smile. He really was quite handsome… Her heart gave a little flutter.

“You know… I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you laugh. It’s… nice.”

The words were out of her mouth before she quite realized what she’d said, and she immediately blushed, surprised by her own forwardness. She averted her eyes from Link’s, whose gaze had become suddenly much more piercing, turning her attention awkwardly back to her glass. Lifting it to her lips she took another hearty swig, downing the rest of her glass and distracting herself with the burn at the back of her throat. She quickly changed the subject before Link could respond.

“If Urbosa could see me now,” she said with a weak laugh, “I’m not sure if she would have a heart attack or give me a pat on the back. She’s always encouraging me to live a little, though admittedly I’m not sure if this is quite what she had in mind…”

“I don’t know… have you ever seen the Gerudo drink?” Link asked with humor. “They knock back noble pursuits like hydromelon juice.”

Zelda laughed, feeling relieved by his easy return to their casual banter. Relaxing a bit, she reached forward to pick up the baked apple and take a bite, licking her lips as the caramelized juices dripped from the apple’s warm flesh; cooked to perfection.

“Urbosa has always insinuated as much. I take it a noble pursuit is an alcoholic drink?”

Link nodded, picking up his own apple and taking a healthy bite. “It’s the signature drink of Gerudo Town and the strongest in Hyrule, rivaled only by…” he lifted the bottle of Goron Fire Whiskey and gave it a light shake.

Zelda laughed. “Well, I guess the bartender took my request to heart, then. And speaking of which…” She reached for the bottle, filling both of their empty glasses back up and pushing it towards him with a pointed but playful stare. He glanced down at the glass, staring at it with wry amusement for several moments before reaching for it and lifting it to his lips, carefully downing half and setting it back down as she took a swig from her own.

“You know,” he began, “I ran into Urbosa after she’d had one too many noble pursuits once. Literally, actually.”

Zelda’s brow quirked in interest. She knew Urbosa had an unruly side to her—her mother used to say as much when she was young with a sort of fond reminiscence, but around the Princess the Gerudo Chieftain tended to be somewhat more staid. She had always wondered about Urbosa’s more… rowdy youthful proclivities.

“ _Really_?”

Link nodded, a smile on his lips. “Yeah. She, uh, didn’t recognize me, though. Could barely stand, actually, but challenged me to a sand seal race around the city anyway, accusing me of being a scrawny, rabble rousing little via.”

Zelda snorted into her bite of apple. “Really? Did you race her?”

“I accepted her challenge, but she passed out before making it out of the Noble Canteen.”

Zelda burst out into a fit of giggles. “Are you serious? Oh, Goddess, I can’t believe it!”

The thought of the strong and ever-graceful Urbosa so drunk she could barely stand was almost too comically conflicting a mental image to even imagine. As her giggles died down and she slowly regained composure, however, his comment took on greater clarity. For Link to have run into her in the Noble Canteen he’d have had to be in Gerudo Town. That didn’t make sense at all…. Cocking her head, she narrowed her eyes at him, “Waaait… how did you get into Gerudo town? And why did she think you were a vai?”

Link coughed into his drink. “I—uh… too many noble pursuits, I think.”

“But how did you get into Gerudo town?”

Link lifted the last of his his drink to his lips, smiling into his glass as he murmured, “Champion’s secret.” With a swig he downed the last of his drink and set the glass back on the table.

Zelda pouted and crossed her arms. “Oh, come on! Now I’m curious!”

He shook his head, mirroring her by crossing his arms as well. “Nope. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

She huffed playfully, turning away and deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to pry into his silly little secrets. Instead, she turned her attention to fishing off her delicious snack. Her mind floated pleasantly in a comfortable haze between juicy bites, and though she could feel a strange tingling on her cheeks it was a good tingle. She felt good. Relaxed.

As she licked the juices off her lips and fingertips, her thoughts ambled back to the astonishing mental image of Urbosa passed out on the Canteen floor. Goddesses, if only she could have been there! She would have to tease her mercilessly the next opportunity she had to see her. And perhaps she would have to try a noble pursuit herself. Now that she had a point of reference, she rather thought she could handle it. She seemed to be doing well with the fire whiskey so far…

As her thoughts lingered on the Gerudo Chieftain and noble pursuits, an old memory resurfaced—of Urbosa’s teasing words shared in the shade of the city many months ago outside the Canteen as she sipped on the signature icy drink.

“Hey, Ravio?” Link turned his gaze back to her quirking a brow in friendly acknowledgment. “What is ‘never-have-I-ever’? Urbosa has mentioned it before and I always thought it was the name of the signature drink at the Canteen, but if the noble pursuit is their signature drink…”

“Never-have-I-ever?” he asked in surprise, “It’s a drinking game popular among the Gerudo. Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Zelda replied thoughtfully, lifting her drink and swallowing down the last of her shot. “Urbosa once said I would be terrible at it. What does it entail? Why would I supposedly be so bad at it?”

Link let out a breathy laugh as he shook his head, leaning forward on the table with an amused grin.

“I’m guessing she thought you’d be bad at it because it requires that the participants have done a lot of unusual or embarrassing things for it to be at all interesting. You being…” he waved his hand, shrugging apologetically “…well, you, she probably assumed you haven’t had much opportunity.”

Though she knew he was, unfortunately, spot on in that assessment—that was part of why she was here tonight, after all—she felt a little affronted at Urbosa’s unwitting insult.

“I’ve done lots of things!” she protested more loudly than intended. Lowering her voice, she added, “How does this game work? I want to play.”

Link raised an eyebrow, but his skepticism was softened somewhat by his amused smile. “Well, like with all drinking games the goal is to get drunk, but with ‘never-have-I-ever’ it’s also to embarrass the other people playing with you as much as possible.”

He reached out an arm and took the bottle in hand, filling both their empty glasses before setting it down and lifting his glass, nodding for her to do likewise. She obliged, lifting it and waiting for his explanation.

“So you start by saying something you’ve never done, and if anyone else playing has done it, they have to take a drink. The idea is to say something that would be embarrassing for someone else to have done. So, for instance… Never-have-I-ever kissed a Goron.”

Zelda felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Eying him nervously, she asked, “So… if I’ve ever done that, I have to take a drink?”

“Yep, that’s the game.”

Well… she _had_ asked him about it— _she_ had wanted to play… Taking a steadying breath, she lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip, grimacing both at the taste and the sting of her embarrassment. Her blush deepened and she looked away, unable to meet Link’s stunned expression. He began laughing as she stared intently at the wood grain of the table, failing miserably to stifle his amusement.

“What—really? When?”

She sniffed, turning to face him with all the regal posture she could muster. “I was _little_. My parents and I had traveled to Goron City for a diplomatic meeting, and one of the young Goron took a fancy to me. He wanted to impress me with his knowledge of Hylian traditions, so he presented me with a bouquet of flowers and… kissed me.” She blushed harder and averted her gaze.

Link scooted forward in his seat, still snickering as he looked at her with curious amusement. “So it was a boy? How can you tell?”

Zelda blushed harder.

“I… I’m actually not sure, I’ve always just assumed… I’ve never really understood Goron gender…”

Link sat back, a wide, cheshire grin on his face. “So… I have to ask: what was it like? Was it rough and scratchy, were his lips crumbly or dusty—?

Zelda felt her cheeks heat fiercely as embarrassment overtook her again. “I—I was young, I don’t remember!”

Link laughed again. “Oh, come on, surely that’s something you wouldn’t forget…”

Zelda eyed him grouchily and red-faced before lifting her glass out towards him. It was _her_ turn. Waggling it, she said fiercely, “Never-have-I-ever…” then paused, attempting to think up something that could be considered embarrassing for him. Unfortunately her imagination fell somewhat flat in the fog of intoxication. “…Lost a duel.”

A boyish grin lit up his face and he purposefully set his glass down, crossing his arms. She stared at him flatly.

“Really. You’ve never lost a duel… ever.”

She hadn’t because she’d never been in a duel to begin with; but he was a different story. Surely at least once over the course of his life… perhaps when he was a child?

His grin broadened as he shook his head. She sighed to disguise the laugh that escaped her, despite her annoyance. “You’re incorrigible.”

He merely smirked at her. Reaching forward to take his glass in hand once more, he tilted his head thoughtfully as he gazed at her.

“Never-have-I-ever… had a love song written for me.”

Zelda stared at him in bemusement. It was an oddly specific statement. Did he think really she’d had a love song written for her? Well, she _hadn’t_ … His gaze on her continued to be expectant and as the seconds dragged on and her drink remained on the table, he set down his glass and gave an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know…”

“Know what?”

“Faris!”

“What about Faris?”

He stared at her incredulously. “He’s in love with you!”

She laughed at him, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, he is not.”

He stared at her a moment more before he began to mockingly recite the court poet’s most recent ballad, gesticulating as his voice pitched with emphasis, “…Oh daughter of Hylia, so fair and divine / with silken locks and features fine / you bear a heart so sweet and pure / with haunting beauty doth you lure / No man’s heart—least thine—can defend / your enchantment wins all in the end.”

She listened attentively, remembering when he’d performed it among several other new pieces once at dinner. She hadn’t paid much attention at the time, her thoughts too preoccupied with other matters, and so had not truly listened to the lyrics. It took a moment to soak in the words, her sluggish mind processing their meaning with slow inevitability. As the truth hit her, her mouth popped open in a silent ‘oh’. _Dear Nayru_ , he was in love with her! How in the world had this escaped her?!

“ _Yeah_ ,” he said with smug satisfaction. He took a moment to relish her shocked expression before pushing the drink in her hand closer towards her with a smirk. “Drink up.”

Eyes still wide, she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip, brows furrowing as she set it back down. “How… how did I never…?”

Popping another handful of nuts into his mouth, he shrugged. “You probably just weren’t looking for it. He does try to be subtle most of the time.”

She was distracted enough by her revelation that when it came time to thinking up another never-have-I-ever, her imagination came up rather short, grasping carelessly at a random fact.

“Never-have-I-ever…kissed a boy.”

She blushed as she realized what she’d just admitted about herself; but her own embarrassment quickly dissipated as Link’s amusement vanished, his cheeks turning scarlet as he gaped at her. Before she could process his strange shift in behavior he slowly lifted the glass to his lips and took a swig, averting his gaze as he set the empty glass back on the table silently. Zelda’s eyes bulged, Faris and his love song completely forgotten.

“You— _what_?!” she gasped.

His blush deepened and he reluctantly brought his gaze back to hers.

“I… it happened when I was younger. I was… going through a phase.”

Now it was Zelda’s turn to laugh. “Really?! _You_ kissed a boy? You?!”

Link’s eyes narrowed, but she hardly noticed; her mirth could not be contained. She just couldn’t believe it—her solemn, stoic knight experimenting with boys!

“Oh, I have to ask: what was it like?” she crowed, mimicking his earlier teasing question, “Was it soft or manly or—or…?” she couldn’t even finish her sentence. Her sides were aching and her breath was coming in gasps she was laughing so hard. Link—kissing a boy!

However, as a result of her near-hysteria, she didn’t notice Link’s expression slowly shift from humiliation to wicked determination. A cheshire grin split his face as he said, softly—dangerously, “Never have I ever… had an orgasm while riding my horse.”

Zelda’s laughter abruptly ceased and her eyes widened in shock. Her cheeks erupted in a crimson blush, mouth falling open in disbelief. “H-how…” she stuttered, “How did—how did you… you _knew_?!”

It had happened months ago. It was _that_ point in her cycle, when her womanhood was swollen and sensitive. They’d been riding together through the Faron woods on their way to Lurelin, and had been traveling together for a while so she hadn’t had an opportunity to… see to her needs, in quite some time. It had been quick and unexpected—the way the humidity clung to her skin and the saddle rubbed against her swollen pearl had simply been too much. She’d tried to hide her body’s embarrassing reaction, tried to shield her face from his with her hair, but still she’d let slip a small gasp when she’d climaxed. He’d given nothing away at the time, had merely asked politely if she was alright and she’d lied and said she was just a little overwhelmed by the heat and humidity. She had no idea he’d known, all this time…

He smiled victoriously, an odd gleam in his eye as he nodded to her glass and took a handful of chickaloo tree nuts, popping them in his mouth smugly.

“Drink up, _Hilda_.”

She stared at him, still struggling to realign months worth of memories with this new revelation. Lifting her glass and tilting her head back, she shut her eyes tight against the embarrassment as she downed the entirety of her glass. Goddesses let the ground open up and swallow her whole…

Perhaps it was the alcohol taking root, but a small, niggling voice in the back of her mind appeared suddenly to ask an unexpected question. What did he think about that? Had he… watched her? Had it aroused him? If he’d known all this time, did he think of it when he was alone in his room at night, touching—

Oh—oh goddesses, no! No—oh, what was she _thinking_ —? What was wrong with her?! Fresh embarrassment washed through her and she averted her gaze, silently reaching for the bottle to refill her glass.

Link let out a chuckle, unaware of her inner turmoil. “I think Urbosa made a serious underestimation of how entertaining you’d be at this game.”

That comment stirred a little of her indignation and Zelda set the bottle on the table harder than intended, crossing her arms and glaring at him; though the effect was somewhat diminished by the redness still suffusing her cheeks.

“Yes, well, I think I’m done with this game. You have an unfair advantage.”

Link laughed, pushing the nuts towards her as he leaned back in the booth. “How so?”

“You’ve… done this more! And… you’ve had less to drink than me, so you’re thinking better!” she huffed, then immediately reached for the bottle again, taking his glass and sloppily filling it. As she set the bottle back on the table, she pushed his glass meaningfully towards him.

“You need to catch up.”

She then settled back against the booth and looked at him expectantly. He smirked.

“You know,” he said casually, lifting the glass to his lips, “I may have more experience drinking than you, but that doesn’t mean I’m a _drinker_. I’ve never even been drunk.” He paused, reaching up a hand to scratch the back of his head as he gazed out across the tavern thoughtfully. “Well, okay, maybe now I’m a little drunk…”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his almost surprised realization.

“ _Really_?”

She hadn’t expected him to be so new to drinking. She knew many of the soldiers enjoyed their time in the taverns, and though she’d never thought of him as any sort of wild card—he wouldn’t be her appointed knight if he was—she had always thought of him as… somewhat more ‘in-the-know’ about these kinds of things than her—ordinary commoner things. She resented her sheltered life and to hear that he was inexperienced in some of the same things as she was… kind of relieving; she didn’t feel quite so alone in her naivete. Perhaps there were other things new to both of them they could try together for the first time…

Curiosity got the better of her and she leaned forward with inquisitive eyes. “What other things have you never done?”

His expression heated for the briefest of moments before he averted his gaze, clearing his throat roughly as he turned to look out across the room to the small three piece band currently playing a lively fiddle tune. He didn’t answer right away, but when he did his voice was quiet, almost shy.

“I’ve… never danced with a girl. Well… my mother and my sister—but my sister’s got two left feet, and my mother was, well, my mother, so… I don’t think either count.”

She immediately brightened, grateful to draw the conversation away from her humiliation—especially when the change in topic was to one of her favorite activities. She turned and glanced at the dance floor where only two other couples were engaged in a lively promenade. Though the waltzes she was forced to do at castle balls and other formal events weren’t exactly her favorite, she enjoyed the grace and intimacy, the liveliness and spirit of the dance. She turned back to him, smiling.

“I’d love to dance,” she said enthusiastically, and noticed him perk up at her words. “But… I don’t know any commoner dances. I’ve only ever been taught waltzes.”

Link slid out from his side of the booth and came to stand before her, hand extended and a sunny smile brightening his features. “I can teach you, if you’d like.”

She grinned, feeling a strange thrill as she took his hand.

“I’d like that.”


	5. Dance Lesson

They left their cloaks behind in the booth as he led her to the dance floor. A lively tune was starting up, the pianist providing a boisterous backdrop to the fiddle’s keening notes as they took up position. He placed a hand on her lower back and took her right hand gently in his left. Maybe it was the alcohol altering her senses, but the feeling of his hand on her back—even through the fabric of her dress, caused a small shiver to race up her spine.

“This song is a basic jig, and that means you’ll be doing a lot of footwork,” he began, drawing her attention away from how her skin tingled beneath his palm. He pulled back without releasing his hold on her, directing her attention to the floor.

“There are a couple patterns, though the easiest for you will probably be this one.”

He demonstrated a simple tap alternating between the heel and toe, and she mimicked it as best she could, holding tighter to him for balance.

“Good! This one’s a little more complicated, but once you get the hang of things feel free to give it a try.”

He showed her a somewhat more complex tap step, this one involving more twisting and turning of the ankles. She mirrored his movements as best she could under the slowing effects of the alcohol, and though it resulted in a pale imitation Link seemed satisfied nonetheless.

“Jigs alternate between closed and open position, but are generally flexible. Just focus on following my lead. Ready?”

Zelda quickly repeated the simpler footwork pattern he had shown her for good measure, and once she felt comfortable with the rhythm, nodded her head. “I think so.”

Link smiled then pulled her a little closer, her heart fluttering at the proximity. He nodded his head in time to the beat of the music and on the fifth count twirled her outward. She let her body spiral out, feeling Link’s hand firmly in her own as he tugged and pulled her back in, drawing her against him once more.

She closed her eyes and let herself flow with the music, feeling Link’s lead as he directed her through subtle body language. The tempo of the music was quick and her heart beat increased with the rapid pace of movement the dance demanded. She was slowly getting the hang of it, and as the footwork became easier, more second nature, she allowed herself the additional sensory input of sight.

Link was gazing at her with a broad smile, his movements easy and practiced as he pulled her around the small dance floor. She couldn’t help but smile in return. He was an excellent partner—she never would have suspected it of him, and yet somehow it seemed fitting.

The music shifted into a cheery chorus, the piano rising in prominence. With a lift of his arm he separated them into open position, standing beside her with his right hand in her left. She mimicked his movements, even chancing an additional time step of her own. Link smiled as he watched her improvise, twisting his arm and sending her twirling once, twice, before pulling her back into him and leading them across the floor. Though the double spin left her feeling a bit dizzy, she felt exhilarated too. This was so much better than the dull, stately waltzes of the castle balls, so much freer. This felt… impassioned, joyful. She felt so _alive_.

After a set of basic steps, he spun her again in a move she was less familiar with but managed easily enough, rolling her behind his back and around to his front before swinging her out and pulling her back in with another spin. She felt a wide grin pull at her cheeks as she twirled, dress flaring, grabbing his hand easily and resuming their journey across the floor.

The music was winding up—coming to a close, and Link leaned into her, whispering in her ear.

“Follow closely for this next part.”

She managed a nod despite the shiver she felt as his breath ghosted warmly over the shell of her ear, and Link tightened his grip on her hands.

As the final chorus started up, he twisted her out and she closed her eyes once more, focusing on his lead through the tension and compression in his arms. He spun her once, pulling her back to him until her back pressed against his chest and he grabbed her other hand, holding it over her shoulder as they tapped out a basic step. She felt her heart leap wildly in her ribcage. He was so close against her she could feel the heat of his chest radiating through their clothing; but she quickly forced her attention back to the moment lest she lose track of her steps. After a moment he spun her, rolling her behind him again and twirling her twice more before turning to face her. She chanced opening her eyes and found him smiling at her with a crooked grin. He winked, and despite herself she felt her stomach flip.

Their hands hung between them as he performed a complex set of steps and taps in contrast to her more simple ones. As the music was beginning to wind down he rolled them both, keeping their hands connected as they arched their backs, spinning and straightening to face each other. Then he spun her out one last time, twirling her and twirling her as he slowly brought her back to him, pulling her flush against him as the final notes of the song rang out and the music ended.

She was breathing heavily as she stared up at him, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. The spins had left her feeling a bit dizzy and the floor felt wobbly beneath her feet, so she held onto him tightly for purchase. She felt a shiver of pleasure having his body pressed against hers like this, and though she tried not to focus on that fact, it became impossible with the way he was looking at her. He gazed into her eyes intently, absorbing the sight of her like she was an oasis in the Gerudo desert. Her heart drummed a frenetic beat and she felt a strange magnetic pull drawing her in closer—a pull she had no interest in questioning, let alone fighting.

Applause suddenly erupted around them and she startled apart. The other two couples on the dance floor had turned to them, clapping and smiling along with many of the patrons seated around the dance floor. Zelda felt herself blush; but Link, for his part, bowed cheekily before the crowd, which only elicited hoots and hollers.

Despite her fluster Zelda laughed, cheeks still peppered pink as she swatted him playfully on the arm. He rose from his bow and turned to her, grinning.

“That applause is for you too, you know.” 

A warm feeling filled her chest and she couldn’t help but smile.

“How did you get to be such a good dancer?” Zelda asked with a tilt of her head as the band prepared for their next song. Though his smile did not fade, there was a touch of sadness in his eyes as he responded.

“My mother taught me,” he said quietly, “She was a dancer—the royal dance instructor, actually. She taught your father the royal wedding waltz.; always said he had the most terrible timing.”

Zelda’s eyes widened with surprise. The royal dance instructor? She… she knew of this woman! Her father had told her stories of his struggles to master the steps of his wedding dance. He’d so wanted to impress mother. She had no idea the woman from her father’s stories and Link’s mother were one and the same…!

However, despite her surprise and the muddying effects of the whiskey, she didn’t miss the use of the word ‘was’.

“What happened to her?” she asked gently. There was a brief flicker of pain in his eyes, one that spoke of an old and still-aching wound; the kind with which she was uncomfortably familiar.

“She died when I was little—riding accident.” He didn’t elaborate further.

Zelda grabbed his hand and squeezed gently, feeling his fingers slowly wrap around her own at the motion. She understood the pain he felt very keenly. “I’m sorry,” she replied softly.

His smile gentled, and he ran his thumb over her knuckles, holding her gaze. “Thank you.”

Before Zelda could respond further the band started up again, playing a slower but still lively tune. She glanced towards the musicians briefly before turning back to Link with a fresh smile.

“So, how does this one go?” she inquired brightly. But Link’s posture had stiffened as soon as the music started, his smile appearing forced.

“What?” She cocked her head in confusion. Did he perhaps not know how to dance to this song? It sounded awfully similar to the one before it…

“Um…” he said ineloquently, nervously scratching the back of his head, “This one’s a, ah… gavotte jig…”

She quirked a curious brow at his sudden reticence. “So? Do you not know how to dance a gavotte jig?”

He shook his head. “No, I do, but—“

“So teach me, oh dance master,” she interrupted teasingly, taking up his hands in her own. He stared down at her, conflicted, but after several moments seemed to come to some conclusion. The strange emotion faded and he smiled, leaning in to her.

“Okay. So a gavotte jig is similar to what we just did—a lot of footwork, but it has more waltz elements so it should be easy for you to pick up.”

She nodded, moving to stand before him.

“Like a simple jig, it alternates between open and closed position and is pretty flexible; but the subtlety of the movements are drawn from the waltz and other ballroom dances, so you might include a rond or ball change. Add a little more contra body movement, and… that’s about it.”

Zelda glanced briefly down to her feet, trying out the moves he’d suggested before lifting her head and nodding. Ballroom dance was something she was nauseatingly familiar with, so she could easily incorporate it. Link approached her, taking her hands with only slightly more reticence before pulling her into position. She felt her breath catch as he gazed intently down at her, his expression unreadable; but soon he was nodding out a count and on five he pulled them along into the line of dance.

Somehow, this dance felt a bit more intimate—made butterflies flutter in her belly; but perhaps Link was just holding her closer. They moved in a circle around the floor and Zelda let her body sway and arch in the more willowy fashion of the waltz as Link pulled her along. His eyes never left hers, and though the same smile lit up his face, there was an intensity in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It captivated her, and she found herself unable—or perhaps merely unwilling, to look away.

He seemed reticent to switch to open position this time, despite how the other two couples did so freely. After circling around the floor once, he leaned forward a bit to whisper in her ear.

“Ready to try a lift?”

She felt that same shiver as his breath fanned against her, forcing out a nod. At the start of the next count he shifted his hands to her waist and she moved both of hers to his shoulders. With a heave he lifted her and she felt the breath leave her as an excitable gasp passed her lips. He spun them both as he kept her airborne and she smiled down at him, feeling giddy. He lowered her at the end of the count and took up standard position once more, eyes twinkling before continuing along the line of dance. She let out a breathless giggle in response.

He moved her body closer but adjacent to his, tapping out a complex rhythm of ball changes and toe-heel taps which she attempted—poorly—to imitate; then he pulled her before him again and spun her out, twisting his body as he pulled her to him so her back was against his. Taking her hands he weaved their arms in a complex pattern which she let herself be pulled along by until they were once more face to face.

Almost before she realized it the song was coming to an end. Link spun her out one last time, pulling her back to him as he twirled her round and round. Feeling a bit dizzy, exhilarated, and clumsy from the alcohol, she lost control of her momentum and crashed unceremoniously into his chest; though he had no difficulty catching and steadying her as the final notes of the song rang out.

She was breathing hard, gripping his hand and shoulder tightly as she gazed up into his piercing blue eyes. He gazed back intently, his hold around her waist tightening subtly as the seconds dragged on. Her heart was pumping, but somehow she suspected it wasn’t just from the vigor of their dance. Dimly she could hear more applause from the onlookers, but it was the voice coming from her right that caught her attention. One of the other dancers was speaking to her, gesturing at the two of them as she spoke with laughter.

“Well? Kiss your partner!”

Zelda’s head whipped to the side and she stared at the woman with surprise.

“I—what?” Zelda asked dumbly. The woman stood with a cocked hip, holding her partner’s hand as she looked at the two of them with an expectant grin. Behind her, the other couple gave each other a quick peck on the lips before turning their attention towards her curiously.

Link spoke quietly against her, his voice only loud enough for her to hear and sounding a tad guilty.

“That’s… part of the Gavotte.” She turned her head back to his and he caught her gaze with intense eyes. “You… kiss your partner at the end.”

Zelda felt her heart pound against her ribcage as she processed this new information. Had that been why he’d seemed reluctant about this dance? The woman beside them continued to wave her hand at the two of them enthusiastically, and Zelda felt her cheeks heat as Link stared at her with a strange sort of seriousness that caused the butterflies in her stomach to erupt in a frenzy.

“Oh,” she said quietly, unable to manage anything more eloquent.

As she continued to stare blankly up at Link, heart racing, she heard the woman beside her begin to chant and clap her hands.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Soon the other dancers on the floor had joined in, each clapping and grinning as they waited for her to make a move. As she remained unmoving the musicians joined in, followed quickly by the patrons seated around the dance floor. She felt her blush intensify, though she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from Link’s embrace. As the chanting grew to a fever pitch, Link gave her a self-conscious smile and the shadow of an apologetic shrug. She felt his hand leave her back only to be placed gently on her cheek, tilting her head upward towards his. Slowly, he lowered his face to hers, his eyes boring into her own. Her breath caught in her throat.

Was this really happening?

He paused inches from her face, his eyes darting from her mouth to her too-wide eyes and back again; then, slowly, he lowered his lips to hers—and the room, the chanting, everything melted away; and the knowledge that Link was kissing her— _Link!_ —momentarily overwhelmed her. His lips were soft and warm, moving against her own in a gentle but enticing rhythm and arousing a familiar heat. She pulled herself flush against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as the hand that had been holding hers lowered to wrap around her waist. The hand cradling her face slowly slid across her skin and down to her neck, eliciting goosebumps, his fingertips pressing gently against the base of her skull to pull her in. Her breathing felt suddenly short, and she could feel his own warm breath ghosting over her face. It was… utterly intoxicating. The undeniable sensation of wanting more—more of his lips, of his warmth, of his touch—consumed her; but before she could properly explore this feeling, noise erupted around them, startling them apart.

Hooting and hollering and teasing whistles echoed over the dance floor from the crowd. She felt her face heat with embarrassment as her gaze quickly swept the grinning audience. With little ceremony Link grabbed her hand and led her off the now-rowdy dance floor back towards their quiet table to echoing shouts of “Lucky bastard!” and “Get a room, lovebirds!”

She could feel her face flaming. Yet despite her embarrassment, the memory of his intoxicating kiss remained prominent in her mind; and the desire to do it again—to kiss him, to feel his body pressed against hers—flared hot within her. As they reached their booth, Link came to a stop and released her hand. She expected him to sit down, to be cool and casual as he’d been all night, but he instead stood in agitation before their table, one hand leaning on its marred wooden surface and the other running through his hair nervously. She’d never seen him so discomposed. Had the kiss affected him as strongly as it had affected her?

“L—Ravio?” she asked nervously.

He turned to her, expression agonized as his eyes raked over her form hungrily before lifting to her face with guilt; she felt her breath catch and a flush creep up her neck at his obvious interest.

She wasn’t quite sure where to go from here, and felt a tad overwhelmed by it all. She had originally come to the tavern have fun and try new things, and very possibly make some mistakes—to, in essence, act like any other young girl her age out for a night on the town. She’d so far had fun and tried new things. Now that she’d hit two out of three… what did she do with the moment before her now?

Link turned to look at her again, attempting speech.

“I—I’m…” he started, but as he continued to stare at her, eyes darting wildly about her face, additional words failed him. He averted his gaze once more, glancing longingly at the bottle of whiskey though he did not move for it.

She slid into the booth slowly, sluggishly contemplating the events of the past fifteen minutes. She tried to hold it all in her head at once—to consider the events objectively; but her thoughts seemed to have a mind of their own, continually dragging her back through the memory of Link’s lips on hers, and the intense feelings his kiss had stirred. If it were any other person she didn’t think she’d be quite so affected; but it was Link—someone she already found quite physically attractive, who she had grown close with and for whom her feelings were… complicated.

She bit her lip, marshaling her frayed thoughts. She hadn’t come here as a Princess, she had come here to be, simply, Zelda—a seventeen year old girl eager to experience the world. So… really, how she responded to his kiss—what she did next, came down to how she felt in the here and now, and what her curiosity demanded—right? She didn’t need to think about what others might think or how she’d feel in the morning—that was for the morning.

So… what did she want?

Link’s heated kiss floated to the surface of her thoughts, as did the shouts of the other patrons as they walked off the dance floor; and an idea—a crazy, potentially disastrous, wonderful idea—took root in her mind. She reached forward for the bottle of whiskey, ignoring Link’s dithering as she filled her glass before downing it in a single gulp as Link had done. She grimaced as it burned the back of her throat before settling warmly in her stomach. She would really need to squash her inhibitions and common sense to do what she was about to do.

“Let’s get a room,” she said apropos of nothing, staring a moment longer at the glass as she gathered her courage before turning to him.

His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. He seemed unable to form words. Feeling nerves erupt like magma her stomach, she pulled on that courage, or perhaps foolishness, and patted the seat beside her. Link gaped at her a moment longer before slowly settling on the edge of the cushion, allowing a good deal of space between them as he eyed her warily.

“I—rather liked kissing you,” she admitted quietly with a strange mixture of courage and shyness. “I’m not making any promises about anything, but… I’d like to do it again, and… maybe more.” She felt her cheeks burn and she turned from him, unable to meet his gaze and wondering if she’d just made a complete fool of herself. However, he slowly scooted closer, and she chanced a nervous glance up at him. It was several more seconds before he spoke.

“I’m not entirely sure we won’t regret this in the morning,” he began slowly, gazing at her deeply, “But—me too, and… yes.” His voice was hoarse as he uttered the word, and he lifted a hand to her face, cradling her cheek as he gazed at her almost tenderly. “I expect nothing of you, and will be happy with whatever you feel comfortable giving me.”

She felt a flush spread through her body at his words, at the potential in them, and the desire for more of this man flared strongly to life. With a strange urgency she leaned forward to capture his lips, gripping his shirt tightly. This kiss was immediately different—less tentative and gentle. Instead it was hungry and hot and full of a simmering desire. He leaned into her, wrapping a hand around her back and shifting his hand on her cheek to pull her closer, angling her head for better access. His lips pressed against hers with an insistence that made her only more certain of her decision—and only more wanting. Her body warmed at his proximity and the way their breath mingled. Her fists clenched at his shirt, clinging to him for dear life. Gods, she wanted more…

Pulling away mere inches and breathing hard, she managed to utter breathlessly, “ _Room_ …”

Link nodded, releasing her and sliding smoothly out of the booth. This time, he allowed his gaze to unabashedly sweep over her form as he extended his hand. Her heart beat wildly as she smiled breathlessly up at him, wrapping her fingers around his and following after.


	6. Room For The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ahead.

Zelda crossed the threshold into the room and Link followed silently in her wake. It was a simple, sparsely furnished space: a single window on the far wall—curtains drawn and their braided ties hanging limply from the window frame; a lit oil lamp upon a wooden table illuminating the low double bed beside it; a worn antique dresser opposite the bed with a small mirror secured above it, reflecting a garish landscape painting framed above the headboard. It was, in every respect, quaintly commoner.

Link shut and locked the door quietly behind them as she moved nervously toward the dresser, releasing her death grip on the key to place it atop its surface. She looked up, glancing critically at herself in the mirror. The young, dark-haired woman who stared back appeared much too familiar and far too foreign at the same time.

Somehow, though, that seemed fitting. 

Her heart fluttered madly as she unbuckled her belt, clumsily sliding the leather out of the latch and setting it on the armchair beside the dresser. She could hear Link behind her, his soft footfalls sounding through the room and growing nearer until his reflection appeared suddenly in the mirror. His presence behind her was strangely overwhelming. She was acutely aware of the scant few inches which separated them. Though his eyes were in shadow, she could still make out his heavy gaze as he looked over her shoulder and met her eyes in the mirror. He carefully raised his hands, never taking his eyes off her reflection before gently gripping her upper arms and sliding his fingers slowly down to her wrists. She shivered under his touch, her gaze spellbound, mind casting back to his fevered kiss on the dance floor. He leaned into her, breath tickling the shell of her ear, and spoke softly.

“Are you sure about this?”

Her eyes roved the contours of his reflection, her body heating under an unyielding gaze that whispered of so many pleasurable possibilities. Within the privacy of their room, the limit of her concerns—once so numerous and weighty, had narrowed to but a scant few all-consuming interests: his breath ghosting over her neck, the tantalizing promise twinkling in his eyes, the way the alcohol muddied her senses until his closeness utterly consumed everything else. Realizing all those pleasurable possibilities felt, suddenly, as vital as breathing. She nodded slowly, her reply hushed for fear of shattering the fragile moment.

“Yes.”

It was only a moment longer before floodgates seemed to part behind his eyes, a searing heat glowing within their depths. Slowly—as though savoring the intimacy of the moment like a fine wine, he lowered his head to her neck and slid his hands teasingly back up her arms. The feel of his lips—soft against her overheated flesh, and his breath fanning warmly against her skin caused her eyes to flutter shut and a shiver to run tantalizingly up her spine. He laid delicate, tortuous kisses along her neck, moving up and and along her jaw to the lobe of her ear, where her shiver turned into a shudder. She let out a soft breath.

After an endless moment he pulled away and her body subconsciously followed after him, feeling hollow from the loss of contact. Her eyes fluttered open as his hands moved from her arms down to her waist, rotating her hips until she was facing him, mere inches separating their bodies. Her heart beat suddenly faster now that they were face-to-face. He gazed deeply into her eyes, expression inscrutable, and she felt her breath catch, unsure of what would come next but knowing as surely as she knew her name she wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —stop.

He leaned in slowly—so slowly, eyes heavy upon hers, before capturing her lips and sliding a hand around her neck to pull her closer. Her eyes slid shut and her heart grew frantic with equal parts nervousness and exhilaration. His lips were soft—not quite tentative, but not so openly hungry as they had been on the dance floor, or in the booth of their table; it was as though he were… waiting for something; perhaps awaiting her…?

Feeling briefly the weight of her inexperience, she did her best convey her permission, relaxing against him and parting her lips to give him room to move more freely against her. It was enough, as soon his kiss grew more heated, more hungry and more daring. He angled his head to kiss her more deeply, the press of his lips warm and tasting of untempered desire. She’d never been kissed before tonight, and though she didn’t have a point of reference, she couldn’t help but feel that if _this_ was what kissing was then she been deprived of something indispensable—something _vital_. It was as if she had been lost in a desert all this time, and he was an oasis she had stumbled upon after countless years of parched wandering. She drank him in, her body howling an unquenchable thirst for more.

He moved his free hand to wrap around her waist and pull her flush against him, his movements rough and his lips pressing against hers with an insistence bordering on demand. His warmth bled through the fabric between them, encouraging her mind to unabashedly consider such scandalous thoughts as what that warmth might feel like without anything between them at all. She arched wantonly against him, seeking that warmth, her body betraying the depth of her need. As if in response the hand behind her neck shifted upwards, fingertips pressing gently against her hairline as he pulled her yet closer. Her heart, earlier a skittish, fluttering thing, now pounded a heavy drumbeat in her chest. Her senses were filled with him—the faint smell of the woody cologne he wore when they were at court, the insistence of his lips, the hard planes of his body pressed against hers; yet, somehow, it wasn’t _enough_.

His tongue traced the contours of her lips with rapt attentiveness; then he pressed his tongue gently against the close of her lips—silently asking for entrance. Her breath hitched. Zelda knew of kisses where people opened their mouths to one another—she’d read about it once, a long time ago. Then, she’d found the idea distasteful. Yet now, as he asked for just that, she found herself instead shivering with anticipation. Tentatively she parted her lips to him, heart pounding with nervous curiosity as she waited. He traced her lips once more as if in tender reassurance, then slid his tongue between her lips gently, the tip of his brushing the tip of hers. Her heart thumped approvingly against her ribcage. It felt like nothing she could have anticipated. It was a strange vulnerability, a private part of herself laid bare to him—unreserved and without restriction, which he rewarded most pleasurably.

His tongue was slow, gliding across her own and riling her senses in a way that stoked the crackling electricity thrumming beneath her skin. Her fingers clutched desperately at the front of his shirt as he angled her head just a little more, then dove his tongue deeper, circling her own and exploring everything he could reach. Her heart thundered a dizzying tempo, and as her breathing became labored he broke away, lips immediately finding her jaw. Though she was grateful to be able to suck in a deep, shuddering breath, as his lips trailed down her neck sucking gently on her pulse point, her breath turned into a needy whimper. Dimly, she became aware of a familiar wetness forming in her underwear.

A foreign desire she hadn’t noticed stirring in her breast was awakening—an intense need to be _closer_ , to melt with him—into him, until where she ended and he began was indistinguishable. A single-minded determination to chase that feeling was slowly overtaking her; stoked by his touch and his kiss the feel of his body pressed against her own.

Goddess, she never wanted this to stop; she needed more—needed _everything_. 

Fingers tangled in her hair, he tilted her head to the side with deliberate slowness, exposing her neck. She felt his breath fan against her skin before his lips pressed once, twice, gently against her. Then he stilled, and she felt her body practically vibrate with anticipation, resisting the urge to fight his grip to get closer. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, the sharp sensation of teeth pierced her keen attention. He made gentle nips, following each with a lingering kiss, in a line up her neck to her ear. After a moment’s tortuous wait he gently bit her lobe, eliciting a choked gasp before dragging his tongue up, then down the shell of her ear. He returned to her neck, letting his breath fan against the juncture of her shoulder, causing goosebumps to rise; then he began to lay hot kisses along her sensitized skin, increasing in fervor until he bit her neck gently once more, then sucked hard at her pulse point. The sharpness of the pain was drowned out by an unexpected pleasure flooding through her, and she whimpered again, her breath coming in small pants as she clung desperately to him.

Urged on by her vocal approval, the hand around her waist shifted to her hip and he began to thumb the rise of her hip bone, dipping lower towards her mound, his grip tight. He kept up his assault on her neck, alternating between nips and licks and kisses as his hand shifted again, sliding up along her hip until it reached the bottom of her vest corset. There, his hand stopped.

Her heart was pounding, her breaths shallow and labored. Goddess, she needed _more_. Pulling back only enough to allow room for her hands, she dipped them between their chests and began desperately pulling on the lacing to her corset. Link quickly caught on and leaned back, watching her work with dark, hungry eyes. His expression, however, made her heart stutter and her hands falter and grow clumsy. When she repeatedly failed to undo the next row of laces he released her waist, moving his hands between them. He held her gaze as his fingers deftly loosened the laces, the gravity of the action heavy between them.

Once the last tie had been undone he pulled the thin shoulder straps down her arms and she shrugged out of it, hearing the item land on the floor with a dull thump. He wasted little time, leaning in eagerly to reclaim her lips. One hand wrapped low around her waist and the other found purchase on her hip. This time as his hand slid higher, when he paused at her waist she nodded urgently against his lips, desperate to feel him where no man had touched. He quickly obliged, sliding his hand teasingly up along her ribcage until he brushed the underside of her breast through the fabric of her dress. She made a desperate, needy sound before pulling away in frustration. It wasn’t _enough_ —there was all together too much fabric separating them.

Without ceremony she reached down and grasped the bottom hem of Link’s shirt and pulled upward. He was still for a moment, surprised by her sudden boldness, before he lifted his arms and helped her remove the article of clothing. Once his chest was bare to her view, she felt an unexpected shyness overtake her. She’d never seen him shirtless before. He was… oh.

He stood watching her expression with a hint of amusement, though said nothing. Slowly, shakily, she extended her hands, laying her palms flat against his toned abdomen and feeling his muscles tense in response to her touch. Her gaze swept unabashedly over his exposed waist and chest. A faint trail of curly blond hair extended down from his navel, disappearing into his waistband. His biceps bulged with the promise of impressive strength, and despite herself she couldn’t help but imagine that strength pinning her to the little double bed on the other side of the room. She blushed, but didn’t remove her hands as she slid them over his shoulders and slowly down his arms, feeling the muscle tense beneath.

Glancing back up she noticed his eyes were closed, his breaths growing heavy as her hands trailed over his warm skin. Feeling curious and a little bit impish, she returned a her hand to his chest and began trailing her fingers delicately along his skin towards his navel; then slowly— _slowly_ —lower, tangling them in the trail of hair just above his waistband. He let out a strangled breath and she couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with herself.

But before she could move any further, Link darted a hand between them to still hers before slowly opening his eyes. Where before his gaze had been keen, aroused and wanting—now, his gaze was fiery. Her pulse spiked, feeling an unexpected anticipation; for what, she wasn’t sure. Without a word he released her, then suddenly stooped, wrapping an arm behind her back and behind her legs. With an amount of strength and force that really shouldn’t have surprised her he picked her up off the ground. She let out a startled “ _Oh_!” as he lifted her bridal style, carrying her over to the bed. Though he laid her down gently, his gentility ended there. He was on top of her before she could blink, and those strong arms she’d moments ago fantasized about pinning her down caged her head between them. He hovered mere inches over her, her legs between his knees as he descended upon her, capturing her lips with a ravenous hunger.

She felt exposed lying prone beneath him—vulnerable to his physical strength and the the strength of his desires. It elicited an unexpected arousal within her, to know she was in some small way at his mercy. But there was a freedom in that surrender—a freedom that promised pleasure and emancipation from pain; from responsibility and disappointment and frustration. She need only give herself to Link—to the whisper of his fingers and the demand of his tongue and the headiness of this moment, to receive her reward…

And she felt only too willing.

His kiss was a primal thing, tongue insistent against her own as his hand traveled down her waist, over her hip, and along her thigh until it reached where her dress pooled at her knees. Her heart skipped a beat as his hand slipped under the fabric, tugging it slowly up her leg as his fingers ghosted along her skin. Her breath hitched and she squirmed at the teasing brush of his fingertips, feeling her soaked underwear dampen her thighs.

As his hand reached her hips she lifted herself a fraction into the air so he could pull her dress up her hips. Once the garment pooled at her waist he pulled her upright, leaning back on his knees. His hands rested along her ribcage, holding the fabric of her dress up as he gazed into her eyes with sudden gentleness.

“May I?” he asked quietly. She felt her heart give a flutter despite its rapid tempo, and nodded her assent, biting her lip nervously. He pulled the dress up higher and she raised her arms, feeling the cool air of the room hit her newly exposed skin as he lifted it up and over her head. He tossed the material to the floor, leaving her in naught but her undergarments: pale pink lace underwear and a matching strapless bustier—a set she had only ever worn once before.

She’d bought it on a whim many months ago in Gerudo town. The pieces were so lovely, delicate and feminine but just a little bit alluring too, with tiny pink bows at the hips and at the top of the ties. She’d been feeling down, frustrated by the monotony of her pointless, daily devotionals. The thought of treating herself to something so intimate and personal—and so scandalous—had felt like a sort of secret triumph in the face of everything weighing her down. She had made the vendor promise not to tell anyone of her purchase, and the young woman had smiled and winked, swearing to keep mum. She’d worn the set tonight in the spirit of that secret defiance; and now, with the way that Link’s gaze was devouring her form, she felt rather pleased she had.

“ _Goddess_ ,” he choked out, extending a shaking hand to her waist where the bustier cut off just above her navel, gliding his fingers along the material. She bit her lip, feeling her body heat under his ravenous gaze. Yet despite enjoying the way he was looking at her, the stiff material prevented the one thing she wanted most; or rather, prevented him from reaching the one place she most wanted to be touched.

“You could take it off,” she breathed out before her nerve left her. Link’s eyes momentarily bulged, but he recovered himself quickly. With a low, eager growl, he pushed her back down on the bed, recapturing her lips. His momentary softness was gone, replaced instead by urgency and need. He wasted no time before sliding his tongue in her mouth, angling deeper to wind his tongue around hers in a dizzying dance.

Link’s hands had moved between them, quickly undoing the clasps at the front of her bustier with surprising dexterousness. As he reached the last one he pulled the bustier apart, letting each side fall to the bed as cool air rushed over her breasts and caused her nipples to peak.

Link pulled away from her lips, trailing kisses along her jaw as one hand came to rest gently at her ribcage. Slowly, his hand moved up, his thumb sweeping along her skin as he neared her breast. His lips trailed slowly down her neck, reaching her collarbone as his thumb swept against the underside of her breast. Unconsciously she arched into him, a needy gasp finding release between her lips as her hands fisted the patchy comforter. He didn’t move his hand any further, however, instead slowly moving his lips down her chest.

She was breathing fast. His kisses, featherlight and teasing, trailed down between her breasts as his warm breath fanned against her skin. She could feel the tips of his hair brushing lightly against the hardened peaks of her nipples and it sent a tremor through her. She moaned, arching her back, feeling overwhelmed yet still wanting—always _wanting_ …

Suddenly his warmth disappeared and she opened her eyes to see him leaning over her. His gaze swept up and down her torso, dark with hunger as his eyes lingered on her breasts. Despite how much she craved his touch, how dizzy she felt with an almost overwhelming arousal, and how far her sensible mind had wandered from her craven body, still she felt herself blush under that gaze.

As if in contrast to the intensity of his gaze, a soft smile alighted upon Link’s face and he leaned down, kissing her gently. He moved his lips slowly, tenderly, against her own. Despite herself her heart fluttered and she let out a soft sigh. He pulled away only to move his lips down to her chest, kissing slowly back down to the valley between her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat at the sudden shift, yet as he once more moved between her breasts she felt that same urgent desire for _more_ flood through her. She arched into him, and an almost inaudible word escaped her before she realized what she’d said.

“ _Please_ …”

Link’s lips stilled momentarily against her chest, then she felt the rumble of his quiet groan beneath his lips, and his hand, which had held its position against her ribcage just below her breast, moved to cup her.

As the rough callouses of his palm rubbed against her hardened nipples, she gasped, a tingling pleasure racing along her nerve endings. His mouth moved left, slowly up the rise of her breast until his lips circled her areola. She squirmed beneath him, desperate to feel his lips on more sensitive flesh; and with unexpected expediency he obliged, placing his mouth on her nipple and swirling his tongue gently over the sensitive bud as he sucked lightly.

Her eyes slammed shut and she arched against his mouth, keening, feeling her body tense as a waves of pleasure crashed through her. He didn’t relent, using the tip of his tongue to rub around and against her, sucking harder as the thumb of his other hand teased her other nipple. She was breathless—gasping, panting, squirming as the pleasure settled almost painfully in her core.

After a moment Link switched, moving his mouth to her other breast and rubbing this thumb over her now-wet nipple. The slickness only made his ministrations more intense, and the one under his mouth was quickly becoming just as overwrought. Right as she thought she couldn’t take anymore, his lips released her with a soft, wet sound. He moved back to the valley between her breasts and began trailing kisses down her torso, stopping just above the line of her underwear.

He lifted his head to glance up at her, a question in his dark eyes. She was barely keeping up, breathing hard, and as she gazed down at him hovering above her underwear her body flushed at the unspoken implication. Was she really about to do this? She shut her eyes momentarily, feeling the heat of arousal churning like magma in her veins.

_Yes_. She would burst into flame if she didn’t.

Opening her eyes she nodded, feeling her face heat but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Link lowered his gaze back to the final article of clothing separating them, lifting his hands and delicately tucking his fingers beneath the lacy waistband at each hip. She lifted her hips slightly off the bed and he slowly began to pull down, exposing her tuft of blond curls and the lips which dripped with the evidence of her arousal. As her womanhood became revealed to him he let out a shuddering breath, quickly pulling the thin, damp material down her legs and tossing it carelessly to the floor.

He lowered himself back down, hovering just above her hair as he laid a hot, lingering kiss. Her body shuddered at the contact, but he moved lower still until she could feel his warm breath ghosting over her slick, sensitive folds. Her mind short-circuited when she felt his lips press against where only her hands had ever been. His kisses were light and gentle, lasting only a moment; and with each one she felt her body eagerly respond, felt her clit swell. After a while his kisses began to linger, hot and wet against her; then she felt a gentle suction as he pulled his lips away, only to bring them back to her and do it over again. Pleasure surged like a swelling tide each time he pressed his lips against her, and it wasn’t long before she was keening, panting out incoherent words of praise as her hands fisted his hair, clutching desperately at the strands.

Her mind was empty of everything but the ecstasy of this pleasure. She could feel a coil tightening low in her belly and with what scraps of awareness were left to her, resisted the urge to use the leverage she had to forcibly hold his face against her.

It seemed, however, she didn’t need to hold back. His lips pressed against her again, but this time he didn’t pull away. Instead, he kept his lips sealed around the bundle of nerves as the flat of his tongue pressed gently against her swollen clit. She cried out at the sensation, feeling pleasure erupt between her legs. He did it again, this time rubbing against her slowly, his tongue a barely-there sensation. Her hips bucked into his mouth of their own accord and she gasped his name, her hands tightening painfully in his hair as the coil tightened.

His hands came up and gently spread her legs, exposing more of her clit to the flat of his tongue. He rubbed mindless circles on her thighs, his rhythm slow and teasing. Her back arched and her hips bucked, electricity coursing through her veins as her hot, sensitive clit was teased and riled, walking the tenuous divide between pleasure and pain.

“O-oh, oh, _Goddess_ —”

She was gasping, muttering incoherent pleas as her head lolled on the bed beneath her. Just as she thought she couldn’t take much more—yet needed just that, she felt one of his hands leave her thigh and move to her opening, his finger circling her wet folds. She moaned feebly, her legs limp and her body ablaze as he momentarily stilled his tongue to slowly insert a finger. It went in smoothly, and by the Old Gods it felt _amazing_ ; but it wasn’t enough—it was a barely-there sensation which merely teased with the promise of what it _could_ be… He rolled his finger within her, feeling out the shape and size of her before, gently, adding another finger alongside the other.

Oh— _oh_. That was…

He stroked her, pumping in and out before he curled his fingers upward in a come-hither gesture, rubbing a familiar bundle of nerves that caused her to whine brokenly. Finding a good rhythm, he resumed sucking gently on her clit before slowly circling her with his tongue. The combination of sensations were like fireworks. Her back arched and her hands clutched desperately at his hair, a white-hot pleasure building within her. She felt on the verge of insanity—incoherent and gasping. The coil of pleasure between her legs was near its breaking point.

And then Link rubbed against her with the flat of his tongue again, and the coil snapped. The world went white as her hips bucked and back arched and she screamed her release—hands flying to the pillow above her head for purchase and voice hoarse and cracking with the intensity of her scream. Link’s tongue stilled against her but his fingers continued to work within her, drawing out her pleasure. Like a falling feather, she fell slowly back to earth, her surroundings coming into fuzzy focus as her climax faded. Link’s fingers stilled and he pulled them and his mouth from her with a wet plop, a satisfied smile on his face as he licked his fingers, watching her eyes flutter open and closed where she gazed dumbly at the ceiling.

“I…” she uttered brokenly, “Wow… That—wow…”

Link laughed softly, crawling up her body until he was hovering over her face, a smug grin in place. “You really know how to inflate a man’s ego,” he teased, voice rich with amusement as he leaned forward to lay a slow kiss against her neck. She let out a ragged breath, too distracted by the feel of his lips against her still-sensitive skin to offer any response.

Her whole body felt limp, her mind floating in a warm, soothing place between consciousness and dreamlike surreality. Though the opportunities to explore her own body were scarce, she’d given herself orgasms before; but they were never anything like this. Never even close. She didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or Link—she strongly suspected it was Link—but by the Goddess whatever it was made her feel wholly unbelievable.

She closed her eyes as Link continued to lay soft kisses against her neck, and without much thought she arched herself against him, the familiar desire to melt into him returning with surprising urgency. But as her hips came into contact with his she heard him groan, pressing his forehead against her neck as he let out a ragged breath. There was a thick bulge in his pant leg which pushed up against her hip.

_Oh_.

A thought occurred to her, then. She had received, but she had not given; and was not a part of the experience driving your partner to their own pleasure, and getting to bear witness to such intimate exposure? Link was certainly… wanting, after all. She lowered her hips, tilting her head towards where Link’s lay draped across her shoulder. She pressed a featherlight kiss against his lobe, speaking into his ear.

“Link?”

He let out a breath, then nodded faintly.

“Is there… um, some sort of… an equivalent? That I can do for you? I’d very much like to.”

Link’s head slowly rose off her shoulder until he was eye-to-eye with her. Surprise and want warred in his eyes as he stared back at her. He spoke hesitantly.

“… Yes… there is an, um… equivalent.”

She met his gaze steadily despite her growing embarrassment, speaking shyly before her nerve left her.

“…can you show me?”

He continued to stare at her, eyes widening a fraction before he lowered his forehead to hers, his body going slack and tense simultaneously as he nodded with enthusiastic agreement.

“ _Yes_.”


	7. Equal Satisfaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ahead.

Zelda leaned over Link, seated between his legs with her hands on the waistband of his trousers. Her gaze flitted between his eyes and his crotch, feeling a blush brighten her cheeks. She was still naked—he’d said, and with no attempt to veil his enthusiasm, that it would… help things along if she remained so; so she’d left her clothes scattered on the bed and floor. Besides, she wanted to give him what he’d given her—and that desire superseded what remained of her modesty.

With nervous fingers she undid the fastenings on his trousers, sliding them down his legs as his body trembled beneath her hands. Once she reached his knees he clumsily kicked them off, leaving him in only his briefs.

She eyed the bulge beneath the fabric with ardent curiosity, just a flicker of nervousness making itself known as she tucked her fingertips into the waistband determinedly. Her eyes glanced fleetingly up to his only to find him staring half-lidded back at her, and with a surge of confidence she tugged the final article of clothing down to his mid-thigh.

Her eyes swept over his length with interest. He was… nice. Very… she swallowed hard—very _attractive_. She’d only ever seen diagrams in books which made everything out to be very clinical and patently un-sexy; but she liked what she saw lying against his hip. A lot.

He was smooth and long with only the barest bulging of veins beneath his skin; thick but not overlarge, and he was hard—very hard. She felt a thrill run through her as she extended her hand, knowing it was she who had made him so.

Link had explained the basics to her and she put his teachings into action, gently gripping his length as her fingers curled around him; he pulsed and twitched faintly in her grasp. As she adjusted for a better grip, her thumb brushed over the small stretch of skin connecting his head to his shaft and she heard him release a shaky breath. Curious, she glanced up, finding his eyes closed, lips parted, and shoulders tensed—so she did it again. His hips bucked slightly in response and he stifled a gasp. She laid one hand gently against his hip bone to still him, repeating the motion as she watched his face, enthralled and feeling an unexpected arousal stir.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly as she gently stroked the small stretch of skin with her thumb. Clearly this was a pleasurable, sensitive area—one she made note of for later, for as much as she was enjoying his reaction she wanted to explore further; so she moved her hand lower on his shaft. Her fingers wrapped delicately around his girth, and as he’d instructed she began slow strokes, sliding gently up and down.

After several false starts she found a rhythm that felt comfortable and kept up a modest pace, intently watching his body react to her touch. His brow was furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, and he let out small, quick breaths as his hands gripped the comforter. A faint flush colored his chest, and the muscles of his abdomen flexed rhythmically in response to her touch.

A thrill ran through her at the knowledge that she had turned Hyrule’s most skilled swordsman into a weak and panting mess—and with but a few strokes of her hand; but she wanted to do more than simply use her hand—she wanted to use her mouth as he had done. With a small trill of nervousness she knelt down until her face was level with his cock, continuing little strokes with her fingers as she let her gaze sweep over his length. The stretch of skin connecting his shaft and head once more drew her attention and, curious, she extended her tongue, lightly licking it with the tip. His cock immediately pulsed in response, and Link’s hands clenched the comforter tightly, the veins in his arms visible with the effort of remaining still.

As she watched him, she felt an ember of arousal burn within her core; so she did it again. This time Link’s hips rolled up despite his efforts, his head grazing the flat of her tongue as he groaned again, low and throaty. His desperation made an intoxicating giddiness bubble up within her like the fizz of champagne, and a mischievous smile rose to her lips.

Once he’d lowered his hips back to the bed, Link looked down to her guiltily, uttering a breathy, “Sorry.” She simply smiled and shook her head, keeping her eyes locked with his as she leaned down and took the tip of him wholly into her mouth—careful of her teeth as he’d warned, placing her tongue along that same stretch of skin. With her fingers she continued to stroke up and down his shaft, keeping her lips steady but creating a gentle suction within her mouth.

Link’s hands flew to her hair, and though his grip was light she could feel the tension in his arms as he attempted to restrain himself much as she had done earlier. She was taken, suddenly, but the intense desire to see that restraint shatter—to make it shatter. ‘ _Had he felt similarly_?’ she wondered distantly, keeping up her pace and stroking his shaft in time with the small, gentle movements of her tongue against the underside of his shaft. Soft moans poured from his lips like prayers, his fingers tensing and un-tensing in her hair. She felt triumph well in her breast.

After a while her cheeks begin to tire, and though she wanted nothing more than to continue hearing his vocal arousal, she released him, continuing her ministrations as she glanced up into his eyes. He was staring down at her half lidded and she felt that giddiness again, stroking a little faster as it burned within her. She was getting… surprisingly excited by his impassioned approval—his barren want.

After a few moments of rest she once more lowered her head to his cock, slowly and carefully taking him into her mouth. He let out a breath as she did, feeling him pulse and twitch against her lips. She swirled her tongue around his head once, then slowly began to slide her head down, sucking more of him into her mouth. Every little bit more of him she took she could hear his breathing grow louder, more ragged. Something primal was stirring within her breast.

She wrapped her tongue over his head and all around him where she could reach. His hands tightened in her hair, threatening to pull out her bun, and they shook with the effort not to force her head down on his shaft. She felt fresh moisture glide across her skin at the apex of her thighs, the feel of his cock throbbing in her mouth sending a delightful tingle to her core.

Swirling her tongue against the underside of his shaft one last time, she slowly lifted her head, again needing a break. This was something she would have to practice—it required strength in places she didn’t know had muscles. The thought did give her momentary pause; she would only need to practice this if she intended on doing this again. Did she?

She supposed she had made up her mind about that not long after Link’s tongue brought her to shuddering climax.

She slowly crawled up Link’s body to where he lay panting against the pillow. His face was flushed, his hair messy, and his shoulders and arms defined from the tension of his arousal. She felt her body warm at the sight, heat spreading between her legs as she took him in. Goddess, what a sight.

She leaned down, pressing her lips gently against Link’s. So distracted was she by her own arousal she didn’t pay attention to the press of their bodies, and as her lips pulled hungrily on his, she felt his cock twitch up and press itself against her core.

A surprised gasp escaped her as her body jolted eagerly in response—as as though this was what it had been waiting for all along. Link’s eyes widened and he quickly scooted up the bed, moving himself out of reach of her center.

“Sorry,” he gasped out, breathless, misinterpreting her surprise. “I’m sorry, I—I don’t want you to feel like you—“

She cut him off with a kiss, aroused and hungering anew, pulling her body up the bed until the apex of her thighs hovered once more over his erection, determined to chase that shock of lightning. She pressed him back onto the bed, lowering herself to grind slowly against him, her folds sliding wetly along his length until the crown of his head rubbed against her still-sensitive clit. Heat erupted between her legs and she moaned into his mouth, a similar sound escaping Link. She slid along him once more, losing herself in the feel of his firmness between her legs, before slowly lifting herself off of him so she could lean forward into his ear, reminding herself to clarify.

“It’s okay” she whispered, “I—I want this.” She felt her cheeks heat, but her desire was too great to allow embarrassment to stop her. For several moments only the sound of his heavy breathing reached her; then, a breathless laugh escaped him and she felt his arms wrap around her shoulders, suddenly rolling them over. She found herself staring up into his twinkling eyes, his hand lowering between them to place the length of his erection between her folds.

“Happy to oblige,” he said with a mischievous smirk. His hips began to move, grinding slowly against her as she had done, drawing up and down her folds before he redirected the head of his cock to her opening. He moved one hand from beside her head, taking a nipple between his fingertips as he kept the head of his cock still, pressed up against her and threatening to slip inside.

She immediately arched against him, feeling her nerves catch fire as his thumb teased one sensitive bud before switching to the other. He leaned back onto his knees, moving his other hand down to her clit, rubbing gentle patterns all around but avoiding direct touch. It was exquisite torture; she moaned needily, her wetness dripping onto Link’s cock as he worked her up. Just as she was on the verge of crying out, Link released her breast and clit, leaning over her once more to kiss her softly.

“Tell me if it hurts, or if you want me to stop,” he whispered against her mouth, and she nodded breathlessly. Then, slowly, he pushed in. Her body stretched at the intrusion, and she could feel a slight pain from the tension; but with the soft, slow pace of his movement any discomfort quickly faded. Once he settled fully within her she could feel him quiver, and he leaned against her shoulder breathing heavily against her neck.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered.

Zelda felt her body flush and core tense at the harsh word—at the lust plain in his quiet voice. Link, however, seemed too absorbed to notice his slip of language; not that she cared. Quite the opposite, actually—she wanted to make him say it again.

Link lifted his head to gaze into her eyes, and the deep, wanting look she saw there made her clench once more. She felt him twitch in response, pushing just a little deeper into her. Her eyes widened then fluttered shut, releasing a soft, “ _Oh_ …”

Link began to slowly ease out of her. He was long and hard, and as her body squeezed around him—sought to close the gap he left behind, she felt the resistance of him—his thickness and stiffness, and it sent a broken shudder through her. She panted softly as all but his head pulled out, then pushed slowly back in. Her head fell back against the pillow in a breathless moan. He managed to fill her more deeply on his second thrust; she felt so full—surrounded and filled by him. That feeling, the desire to melt into him—to become one with him, was finally being gratified; but it was far from sated, and she was eager to see that it was.

Her hands came up to his back and she dug her fingers into his skin, letting her nails drag along his sides as he pulled out again. Link gasped at the burn of her nails, pupils blown wide as his eyes sharpened on her, a ferocious, animalistic look overtaking his gaze. She felt suddenly small beneath him—like prey helpless before a predator; but it didn’t frighten her. Instead, it sent a thrill through her—made her want to taunt that look out of him again.

Firming up his hand holds on either side of her head, he thrust quickly into her all at once as if in silent response to her teasing, sheathing himself fully. She gasped as he he bottomed out, tightening her hold on his back as if she would go tumbling should she let go.

He began a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out while kissing her neck, lips, and chest intermittently, breath warm against her skin. It was overwhelming. She felt him everywhere—within and without, consuming her senses; the lingering smell of his cologne, the slick wetness between her legs, his girth stretching and filling and stoking a fire between her legs. Her heart was pounding a military tattoo. It was too much, and yet left her wanting more.

He began to speed up, his thrusts becoming quicker and deeper, and she found herself angling her hips to better meet his thrusts. She stared up at him, at the bulge of his biceps which supported his weight, at the fire in his eyes. While she was enjoying the strange sense of vulnerability she felt beneath him, the memory of him beneath her—flushed and eager, sent a jolt of arousal through her. At least for a bit, she wanted to be on top—to see him squirm beneath her hands as she took her pleasure atop him.

Without warning she gripped him and rolled her weight to the side, attempting to surprise him by rolling herself on top as he had. It almost worked; but she overestimated the amount of force needed, and send them rolling off the bed instead.

Link yelped and she let out an ungainly squeal, landing on the floor in a heap beside him. Her leg was draped over his, and they both lay on their backs, limbs splayed in various directions. Surprised at where she suddenly found herself, she stared blankly at the ceiling in confusion before Link’s laughter beside her prompted her to turn her head. He sat upright on his elbows as he gazed at her, laughing softly, his erection resting against his thigh. As their ridiculous position dawned on her, she felt a laugh rise too, scooting closer so she could kiss him through her smile.

It started playful, just soft presses of lips, but heated quickly. Link’s tongue pressed against the seam of her lips, darting between them to brush her tongue. He pulled her closer until she lay partially atop him, his hands running up and down the length of her back. She shivered, feeling the absence of him between her legs keenly.

She pulled back, panting out a single request: “Bed.” Wordlessly Link nodded, pulling away to allow her to sit up and crawl back to the mattress. Her legs felt a bit wobbly beneath her and she moved slowly. As she pulled her torso up onto the bed, knees still on the floor, she felt Link’s hand land on her lower back, stopping her.

“Wait—wait, don’t move.”

His voice was rough and his tone sultry. Zelda stilled, leaning her elbows on the low bed and looking curiously over her shoulder. Link knelt behind her, gaze intently focused on her backside. She felt her goosebumps spread across her skin at the look in his eyes as he stared transfixed at her unintentionally proffered ass; then he moved behind her, spreading her legs with his knees as he positioned himself at her entrance, hands on her lower back. With a gentle thrust he reinserted his head, but didn’t move further. She let out a surprised gasp, though nonetheless felt gratified to feel him filling her once more.

She had thought it felt vulnerable to be pinned beneath him on the sheets; but somehow—pinned between him and the side of the bed, his hand pressing her down onto the mattress… it felt far more so. That earlier feeling of surrender—of eager, voluntary submission, came rushing back; she felt overwhelmed by the strength of her desire to be… taken. She hadn’t expected to feel this way, and never would have thought it of herself—but the prospect left her heart racing and her legs trembling.

He glanced to her, a question in his eyes, and she nodded faintly, biting her lip in an attempt to keep a whimper behind her teeth. As he pushed in she felt herself stretch to accommodate him, sliding deeper within her at this new angle of entry. Goddess, it was so… primitive. Her, thrown over a piece of furniture, and him pressing into her—trapping her with his cock… the promise of ecstasy tantalizingly close… Her body flushed with anticipation.

He pushed further into her, bottoming out with a groan and falling forward, one arm gripping the side of the bed for support while the other held tightly to her hip. She leaned forward fully onto the mattress, feeling the rough material of the comforter rub against her breasts, cheek, and temple. The bun in her hair was coming loose, the pins poking at her scalp, and so with clumsy fingers she reached back to remove them, feeling her hair cascade around her on the bed.

Link slowly resumed his earlier pace, a steadily building rhythm of heat and speed. He filled her even more deeply, now, reaching a sensitive bundle of nerves deep within her. Every thrust was a shock of electricity, building a heat within her core that smoldered, slow but deadly. Her hands clutched desperately at the patchy comforter as she rocked with each thrust, her body tense beyond measure and her heartbeat a wild, thundering creature.

His hands found their way to her back, his fingers tracing teasingly up her spine and she clenched around him. Though his touch was light it left her skin tingling, goosebumps trailing in his wake. He moved his hand up her neck and into her scalp, fingers threading through the strands of her hair gently before taking a handful and gripping with unexpected tightness. All of a sudden she felt her head jerk up at his command and she let out an involuntary gasp as Link simultaneously thrust hard into her, pounding that sensitive bundle of nerves.

She cried out, eyes slamming shut as that familiar heat coiled low in her belly. Link held her in place by her hair, using his grip to slowly pull her upright until she was at a forty-five degree angle to the bed. His thrusts were firm and deep, hitting the nerves near her entrance before sliding further to that pleasure point hidden so deep within her. Link arched forward, growling low into her ear—a promise; a threat. He was rutting into her like an animal—desperate and hard. It was primitive—filthy, hungry. Her throat was aching with the string of moans and whimpers which insisted on escaping, every inch of her skin tingling with electric pleasure.

Without warning he removed his free hand from where it rested against the bed and brought it to her breast, cupping her tightly. She moaned as his fingers brushed teasingly over her pert nipples, causing her to clench around his girth and eliciting another throaty growl from him.

The coil of pleasure was hot and unbearably tight—so close to snapping; but she needed more, something—just a little bit more…

“Link, _please_ …” she panted, pleading, fisting the comforter in desperation. He let out a low groan, then suddenly pulled her fully upright against him by her hair, her back flush against his firm chest. She cried out as thrust into her, hard, tweaked her nipple as his lips brushed her neck. Pleasure suddenly surged within her like tide, the electricity beneath her skin crackling dangerously.

As her arms wrapped around his neck for purchase he released her hair, lowering his hand instead to her clit, circling the nub and sending shocks of white-hot pleasure surging through her body. His pace within her was nearly bruising, and she could hear skin slapping against skin in time with his rapid thrusts. She was overwrought; she was close—so close. She just… something more…

His mouth latched onto her neck at the junction of her shoulder and he sucked hard. As his teeth pressed into her skin, the sharp pain heightening the intense pleasure burning between her legs, she felt the coil break with a vicious snap. She screamed, clenching tightly as she shattered around him. He thrust harder into her as she came, drawing out her climax, movements becoming erratic as his hips trembled and tension filled his limbs.

As her body was starting to come down from its high, he forced her suddenly back to the bed, her torso flat against it as he pulled out of her. She heard him groan just as a warm liquid landed suddenly on her back. She felt heat rush through her at the realization of what it was, though she was too spent to react let alone move. Truthfully she was grateful; she hadn’t considered that, and was in no hurry to be a mother. But on her back? She felt both a little bit awkward and entirely thrilled by the… filthiness of it; it was a strange mix of emotions.

Link collapsed above her, careful not to press against her lest he smear his seed between their bodies as he caught his breath. Zelda let herself smile and stretch out a bit beneath him, careful not to disturb the thick liquid on her as she luxuriated in the afterglow of her orgasm. After a few moments of silence Link pulled away, saying softly, “Hold still.”

He got up and walked to the wash basin in the corner of the room. Zelda turned her head and watched him, admiring the slight curve of his ass as it met his muscled back, his toned legs… Goddess, he was handsome. If she wasn’t feeling suddenly so exhausted she’d jump him all over again.

Link returned with a small wash cloth and knelt behind her, gently wiping up the evidence of their lovemaking. Zelda quietly let him clean her, feeling a strange intimacy from the action. Once done, Link tossed the cloth to a corner of the room, helping her to stand and throwing back the covers.

In the back of her mind, there was a voice—one full of questions, full of uncertainty and embarrassment and awkwardness. A voice that demanded to know what all of this meant. She hadn’t planned on any of this. The thought of a kiss with some handsome stranger had crossed her mind, but not more than that. She certainly hadn’t planned to have sex—let alone with Link; and now that it had happened, she hadn’t given much thought about what this momentary lapse in decorum and propriety would mean for her, for them, for their future… There were so many questions, so many considerations—!

But no; no. That was for the morning; and it wasn’t morning. For the moment, she would bask in this glorious afterglow, and little else.

She slid in beside him, snuggling up to his body and letting her head fall against the pillow as he covered them both. She could still feel the sticky mess between her thighs but she was too tired and too comfortable to care. His bare chest pressed against her back, his arm wrapping around her waist as his head nuzzled into the crook of her neck. She could already feel herself beginning to fade, but forced herself to turn to him, a smile in place.

She leaned up and kissed his cheek, a soft, tender press of her lips before letting her head fall back to the pillow. As her consciousness faded into dreamless sleep his nose brushed against her neck and cheek, his warm breath fanning against her face as he pressed a soft, tender kiss of his own against her jaw.

Before she knew it she was fast asleep. Link followed not long after.


	8. Chapter 8

“Zelda… Wake up.”

The voice came to her through a thick fog, hazy and indistinct. She ignored it, her bodily exhaustion and the softness of the bed enticing her back to sleep. She was half-submerged in a warm tide of indistinct dreams when the voice spoke again, more urgent this time.

“Wake up… Zelda, you _need_ to wake up; it’s almost sunrise.”

An insistent pressure against her shoulder jostled her torso, sending tremors up to her head and she rolled over with a groan, the fog instantly dissipating as no end of discomforts rumbled into being. A massive, skull-splitting headache throbbed to life and a full-body ache made movement night-on intolerable. Her mouth felt like sandpaper—dry and rough, and the combination of sensations drove her from sleep to wakefulness with an unpleasant jolt. She rolled over again, struggling to find a more comfortable position for her aching head, groaning as she clutched at her temples.

“There’s some water on the bedside. You have to get up, and we need to leave before anyone at the castle notices we’re missing.”

The voice was both apologetic and urgently insistent, and it took a moment for her to put the pieces of her fragmented memory together. Sneaking out of the castle… Link. The tavern. They—their…

She sat upright with a jolt, feeling her head throb painfully with the sudden movement. The bed sheet slid down her bared breasts, cool early morning air causing her nipples to stiffen. She blinked blearily around the room, fighting through her headache as she absorbed her surroundings. The room was dim, the oil lamp burning low. A pitcher of water and an empty glass sat on the dresser, and a filled glass rested beside the lamp on the bedside table. Beside her, Link sat on the edge of the bed in nothing but his trousers, cheeks faintly pink as he struggled to keep his gaze at eye level. With a muffled ‘eep!’ Zelda pulled the sheets back up to cover herself, staring at Link wide-eyed.

However the sudden movement was too much and with another groan she leaned forward, a hand clutching her temple as her eyes shut tight in an agonized squint. Though she hadn’t been revealing anything he hadn’t already seen—she didn’t have anything _left_ he hadn’t already seen, a thought that would have made her blush profusely had she not been in so much pain—the gravity of the situation was slowly making itself known to her.

Goddess, what had she _done_? She was the Princess of Hyrule, and she had let her own knight-attendant deflower her out of wedlock in a shabby inn while they were both completely drunk. And worse—it was entirely her fault; she had no one and nothing to blame. _She_ had invited him to join her, _she_ had coerced him into having a few drinks, and _she_ suggested they get a room after that breathtaking kiss on the dance floor.

It wasn’t that she regretted it; not really—not the act itself. This fact surprised even her with its clarity. Rather, it was the implications she regretted, the potential complications—the social consequences should anyone find out. In truth—and perhaps this was the alcohol lingering in her system (or at least she hoped since that would make it all the simpler)…she wouldn’t mind doing it again. If she closed her eyes she could still feel the thrill of his sure hands exploring her body, the aching pleasure of him buried within her, thrusting hard and deep as though he were branding the deepest part of her with the shape of his body. Despite her inebriation, she didn’t think she could ever forget this night; it was seared into her mind, haunting and vivid, teasing her with the promise of what could be if only things were a little bit different…

She felt the bed shift as Link made to stand and chanced a peek up at him. He walked to the foot of the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and slipping it on before coming around to her side and handing the filled glass to her. She lifted her head, glancing at it wearily as she pulled the sheet self consciously tighter around her bare figure. With effort she reached up and took the offering.

“Welcome to your first hangover,” he said wryly as she took the glass, downing the liquid as though she hadn’t had a sip of water in months. His attempt at levity made her smile against the glass, but it lasted only a moment. His expression quickly turned awkward as he cleared his throat.

“We don’t have much time before the sun rises, so you may want to hurry. I’ll… um, be outside while you get dressed. Just… come out when you’re ready.”

Then he turned without another word and walked towards the door. Panic rose suddenly within her at the sight of his retreating back. She hadn’t had more than a moment to orient herself, yet somewhere within her rational mind she knew that if he left like this he would be closing far more than just the door of their room. With clumsy hands she set the glass on the table and half-shouted after him.

“Link—wait!”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her, hand on the doorknob and expression even yet inscrutable. She simply stared, thoughts spinning in place. She… hadn’t thought this far. Her mind was bogged down by exhaustion and the hangover—both which made critical thought difficult, but more than that… what did you say to someone about something like this? How did one navigate a situation so delicate when neither party had planned for it to occur? Did he view it as a mistake? Did he think she did?

Despite her unsurety, she knew she had to say _something_ —something to ensure he knew she was… well, she didn’t quite know how she was, but she knew she wanted him to feel that this was all okay. She wanted him to know she didn’t regret it.

“Thank you,” she said in a breath. _For your kindness; for such an incredible night; for not judging me; for making me feel wanted._ She wished she could get all of those sentiments out, but a simple ‘thank you’ was the most her muddled mind could formulate. Silence met her words, and her cheeks reddened at the sudden awkwardness hanging in the air. Link stared at her a moment; then some of the stiffness in his shoulders eased and his lips quirked up in a small smile, a subtle warmth in his eyes as he held her gaze. He nodded, silent as ever, then turned and exited through the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Her shoulders stooped, releasing a tensions she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she sighed heavily. A hand rubbed tiredly at her eyes. Goddess, where did she go from here? Things couldn’t just go back to normal between them, could they? He was hard to read on the best of days, and he’d given her no real sign as to what he thought of what happened between them. Was he upset? Did he feel taken advantage of? Did _he_ regret it? It was trying enough to puzzle through her own emotions, let alone his.

She let out a sigh, allowing her hand to fall back to the bed. The minutes were ticking by and with each passing second they drew closer to sunrise. Link was right—they needed to get moving, get back to the castle before anyone noticed they were missing. The morning guard shift change would happen just before the sun broke the horizon. That was their best bet for getting back in undetected.

Gathering her scattered wits, she slid the sheets back and swung her legs out of bed, pushing through the throbbing of her head and the chill of the air on her naked body. As she stood on wobbly legs, she felt a sudden, intense ache between her thighs and doubled over, palms resting heavily on the bedside table to support her weight. She shut her eyes and took a slow breath. It wasn’t a sharp pain, nor an overwhelming one, but between the full-body ache of her hangover, the ache between her legs, and the throbbing of her head, she felt nausea rise swiftly within her. She forced her body still and sat back down upon the bed, breathing deeply until it passed.

With greater caution she slowly stood. She could still feel the stickiness between her legs, and shuffled awkwardly over to the dresser to clean herself up. Walking, it seemed, would be a bit uncomfortable for a while. She tried not to let her mind linger on why—she needed to _focus_ if they were going to make it back in time. Pouring water on the spare wash cloth, she gently wiped away the lingering remnants of their sordid activities. Despite herself, she felt a momentary wave of sadness. Once they left, there would be little evidence that all this hadn’t been some fantastical dream. The remnants of her arousal was one of those things—and now it was gone.

Setting the cloth back on the dresser, she picked up Link’s empty glass and filled it with water, gulping down the soothing liquid and willing it to banish her headache. As she set it down, she stared idly at the glass, wondering where Link had pressed his lips. With a fingertip, she traced the rim. Would she ever feel his lips again after this?

She turned away abruptly; it wasn’t a pleasant thought to linger on. Besides—she needed to stay _focused_!

She stooped around the room, gathering her clothing from their varied piles across the floor. With each passing moment she felt her faculties slowly return as she acclimated to wakefulness; but so too did she feel the creep of morning more and more keenly. After several minutes of hurried but clumsy fumbling, she managed to redress herself and take a quick look at her figure in the small mirror above the dresser. Her face looked a bit haggard. There were faint bags under her eyes and her skin showed the evidence of last night’s sweat and grime. Her hair was down—she’d been unable to find her pins in the bed sheets and didn’t want to waste the time looking; It was really a shame, too, as one of them had been a gift from Urbosa for her birthday.

Though it nearly managed to hide beneath the dark strands draped over her shoulders, peering closely in the mirror she saw a red mark on her neck at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Pulling the hair aside she frowned at it, feeling her cheeks warm as she thought back to when she likely received it. She would have to be careful when she returned to the castle, perhaps make use of the makeup her ladies maids were always trying to get her to use. At least the neckline of her formal gown would cover it.

After a moment she leaned back, turning to take one last, lingering look around the room. She couldn’t help the intrusive thought that this may very well be the last time she ever did anything like this—the last and only time she would ever be with him, or any man, like this; as Zelda— _just_ Zelda. She felt a surprising amount of regret and dejection at the thought. With a soft sigh she hefted both their cloaks in her arm and turned for the door, reigning in the desire to look back.

Link stood in the hall beside the door to their room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his head turned thoughtfully up toward the ceiling. His head swiveled quickly in her direction as she stepped through the doorway, shutting the door quietly behind her. Wordlessly she handed him his cloak. He pulled away from the wall and reached for it, his fingertips gently brushing hers before he threw it over his shoulders with a flourish. Shaking off the tingle which spread up her hand she followed suit, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders and pulling up the hood. He turned and with a nod, they headed for the stairs.

The walk back through castle town was a silent one. Zelda was quietly fighting through her hangover, struggling not to let the ache between her legs slow down her stride. If Link noticed or was bothered by her lagging pace, he did not comment on it.

Thoughts, questions, and what-if’s darted about her mind like minnows in a pond. She struggled to grasp any single one and examine it; hangover aside, her exhaustion was catching up to her. She must have only slept two or three hours before Link woke her up; and good thing he had when he did—by the almost imperceptible lightening of the navy sky, sunrise was not far off.

Wading through the moat proved significantly more difficult in her semi-sober state, and Link silently offered his hand to help her across the slippery rocks. She took it gratefully, trying not to speculate on or second-guess the gesture, reaching the other side quickly with his aid. They backtracked through the series of caves and hidden passageways she’d taken earlier in the night, and by the time they reached the lockup she could hear voices down the hall signifying the imminent shift change of the castle guard.

“Hey, Dornan! Pick up your damn cards! I ain’t gonna take shit from Captain Fyrthen because you can’t at least pretend to follow a couple stinkin’ rules!”

Link peered around the corner, his ears quirked towards the source of the voices before he quickly darted out, signaling for her to follow. She stepped quietly around the corner, following his lead down the hallway until they reached the base of the spire to her study. Link nodded silently for her to open the passageway door, turning his ear towards the blind corner.

Zelda ran her hands along the stone, searching for the panel she’d read about so long ago. She hadn’t actually entered through the passage in the opposite direction, and so wasn’t quite as certain which stone was the right one.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’! Not like we’ve _ever_ had any intruders or escapees down here, anyway. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Link’s eyes widened and her hands stilled as the voice carried down the hall, uncomfortably close. Her heart began to thunder in her chest as footsteps echoed off the walls, quickly growing louder, signifying the approach of a lockup guard. Link gestured wildly with his hands for her to hurry, and she began running her hands frantically over the stone, pressing on each one forcefully, hoping desperately it would be the right one. The footsteps grew louder, and her panic increased as each stone she passed over proved incorrect. She turned to him, eyes wild as she silently but vigorously gestured for him to help her look.

Link stooped and began running his hands over the stones below her, closer to the ground. The footsteps were now loud and distinct—they both knew it would be mere moments before he rounded the corner.

Suddenly Zelda felt the entire panel of wall she was searching unexpectedly give way. Glancing down, she saw Link smiling in triumph as a large panel of stones depressed, then slid behind the wall with a faint grinding sound.

“What—who’s there?!”

The footsteps quickened, and with her heart thundering Zelda jumped through the small opening and Link followed suit. With impressive speed and strength he shoved the door closed, paying little mind to the grinding whine of the door or the faint thump of it falling back into place.

With the door shut, they were both thrown into complete darkness—but Zelda couldn’t bring herself to care. They hadn’t been caught, and that was all that mattered. Her heart was still slowing down from their close call and she slumped against the wall, breathing heavily and only faintly aware of Link’s presence beside her.

Having caught her breath, she pushed off the wall and began running her hands along the stonework, searching for the hook she had left the Sheikah lantern hanging from. For several moments her fingertips grazed only smooth stone, then suddenly she felt her knuckles hit a hard wall of hair; her hands had found the side of Link’s head.

Link’s hand came up to grip her wrist gently, and in the pitch dark—deprived of her sight—she became hyper aware of his touch; the calluses on his palm, the way his fingertips wrapped all the way around her wrist. Her mind was drawn back to the way he’d held her hands while they’d danced, and of the feel of his palms spreading her legs. Suddenly she needed to catch her breath again.

He pulled her hand away from his head, slowly moving it between them. She felt hot breath ghost over her skin—he must have moved her hand past his face, and she shivered, anticipation stirring within her. He held her like that for several moments, his breath against her wrist, no words spoken by either of them, her heart pounding a drumbeat in her chest. Then, quite suddenly she felt something cold press into the palm of her hand: the handle of the Sheikah lantern. She let out a breath, feeling suddenly foolish. Wrapping her fingers around the handle, she pulled away from him, grateful the dark hid her embarrassed blush.

“Thank you,” she uttered breathlessly. Feeling along the lantern’s base, she found the switch and turned it on.

The narrow passageway became illuminated in the dim light of the lantern, and she could finally see Link’s inscrutable expression as he nodded for her to continue on up the passageway. Suppressing a disappointed sigh, she turned and began walking up the slope. Link followed behind her.

As the top of the spire drew near, anxiety began to creep into her mind. They would soon return to the real world, and life as she knew it—the life she dreaded—would begin again. This night had been like some strange, alternate dimension where she wasn’t a Princess or the disciple of destiny, she was just Hilda—a young and carefree seventeen year old girl. It had been… such a breath of fresh air. For a single night she had been free of her shackles; and now she was about to put them back on—they both were. She could already feel their phantom weight around her wrists. It put her on edge.

As she dwelt on their coming emergence from the passageway, their near-miss down in the lockup floated to the surface of her mind, and a sudden thought occurred to her. _What if someone found out_? What if there were guards waiting for them when she returned to her room? And even if they managed to make it back to their respective chambers and their absence went unnoticed… would Link tell? Even just… maybe a friend? Someone he thought he could trust? What if _they_ told someone they thought they could trust?

She stopped suddenly, and Link nearly walked into her. Turning sharply despite the throb of her head, she looked at him seriously, unable to hide the anxiety in her voice.

“No one can ever know,” she said gripping the lantern tightly in hand. “I would be…” she let out a breath, “Well, the courtiers already think I’ve been sleeping with you so I suppose it wouldn’t come as any surprise to them, but—“

“They— _what_? They _do_?”

Link looked suddenly gobsmacked, his carefully neutral expression morphing into disbelief. She let out a frustrated huff, the memory of their rumor-mongering at dinner stinging as she recalled it.

“Yes—warrantless gossip, really, or perhaps not so warrantless now; but I overheard them at dinner the other night talking about what a wretched Princess I am, and—”

“That was why you were so upset,” he said softly with sudden realization. She didn’t meet his eyes as she nodded slowly.

“You can’t tell anyone—no one can know.” she reiterated, feeling her anxiety heighten. “I would be… torn to shreds. More than I already am.” She looked away, feeling a lump in her throat at the thought of what might happen should this night come to light. After a moment, Link’s hand came to grab her free one, prompting her to look up.

“You don’t need to tell me what’s at stake,” he offered softly, giving her a wry smile. “You may become disgraced in the eyes of the court, but at least you’ll still have your head.”

She looked up at him, feeling both appreciative of his ready acceptance but also a bit ill at the thought of the potential consequences for his actions.

“No…” she responded quietly, “I suppose I don’t.”

She gazed at him a moment longer, feeling a mixture of emotions, before turning and continuing on up the path. She had so many warring thoughts, and just as many warring emotions; but now was not the time to dwell on either. They both needed to ensure they got away with this first. Then, she could sort through it all.

She ignored the fact that she didn’t release his hand; and that he didn’t pull away.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The day had been an excruciatingly long one.

He had woken not long after falling asleep, head throbbing as though a Goron were mining it for precious gems. As he rose, aching and parched, from the bed, he had been certain he’d dreamed everything—a wonderful, tortuous dream; that was, until he looked over at the other side. There she lay, hair spread about her head like a dark halo, kiss-swollen lips parted, the sheets only just covering the swell of her bare breasts. He stared hard for several minutes, absently admiring her beauty before it fully hit him.

He’d slept with the Princess of Hyrule.

At first he had hung his head despairingly between his hands. There was no way he’d get away with this. He was a dead man— _dead_. After they sealed the Calamity, he’d be sent to the gallows, or the chopping block if the King was feeling particularly vindictive. Life in prison if he was extraordinarily lucky. There was no way they’d get away with this—no way _he_ would get away with this.

But the panic quickly passed. He was overreacting—even if they were discovered missing, no one could prove what they’d done, and he knew Zelda would never tell; she had nearly as much to lose as he.

He quietly got out of bed so as not to disturb her and walked to the window, peeking out the curtains. It was still dark—early morning by the looks of things. If they cleaned up now and hurried back to the castle, they might be able to sneak back in before anyone awoke.

There was a chance—a strong chance. But they had to move quickly.

He moved to the wash basin and cleaned himself up, pointedly ignoring the throbbing of his head—he’d suffered far worse during training—and dressed in his trousers before making a hasty retreat down to the bar for some water. He returned to their room and poured her a glass, downing his own before allowing himself a moment to breathe.

He found his eyes gravitating to her slumbering form, her nude figure discernible beneath the sheets. This was likely the only time in his life he’d ever be graced with such an image; it was an image he would burn into his retinas—he never wanted to forget it, to forget being with her.

As she shifted in her sleep, her chest arching upwards as she turned onto her side, his mind cast back to when her chest had similarly arched under the ministrations of his tongue, to her pants and gasps as he thrust into her with reckless abandon. He could feel his body warming, feel himself stiffening at the memory. He shook his head. She had been… truly magnificent—a goddess. More than anything, she’d been so… free. He’d known her long enough now to know how she struggled against the restraints of her title, against her obligations and responsibilities. He’d seen her only a handful of times be truly joyful and carefree. Last night she had been just that. She’d been… Zelda. Not the princess, not wielder of the Goddess’ power, just… Zelda; beautiful, alive, and passionate.

And yet, as much as he wanted to see her like that again—to maybe, possibly, Goddess willing, do this again (and again, and again…)—he couldn’t help but wonder: What had this been, for her? They had both been drunk; had she intended for things to go this far? Would she regret it once she woke?

Was it a one-time thing?

She shifted in bed again and he sighed. Time was ticking, and their window of opportunity was slowly sliding closed. Pushing off the dresser, he crossed the room, settling onto the bed to wake her.

-:-:-:-

They made their way quickly back through Castle Town unmolested, and through the series of secret passageways and caves until they reached the lockup. It had been a close call with the guard—too close, and once they both made it safely inside the secret passageway, leaning and panting against the wall, he felt his adrenalin surge ease and his heart rate begin to slow.

However when he felt her searching hand come into contact with his head—the heat of her touch warming his beating heart, he couldn’t help the urges that rose within him. In the darkness, just as his vision was momentarily blinded so too was reality momentarily suspended. He pulled her wrist close, mere inches from his lips as he relished the softness of her skin and the steady thrum of her pulse beneath his thumb.

His mind was at war. Part of him wanted to pull her wrist to his lips, press her against the wall and take her all over again, here in the total darkness where touch reigned supreme. But his rational mind, which screamed at him to get moving before they lost their chance, won out. Instead of bringing her wrist to his lips, he placed the lantern in her hand, ignoring the disappointment which swelled within him.

They continued on, and he allowed himself the small luxury of watching her hips gently sway as she made her way up the sloping path. By the time they reached her study it was, thankfully, still dark enough that they were able to cross the bridge to her room safely. It was there, before her door, that they parted with little more than a silent nod.

To avoid any passing maids or guards who might have started their rounds early, he scaled the rough outer stone wall of her chambers, running along the upper parapets until he reached his portion of the wing. Then, he scaled down the wall on a vine-wrapped trellis and kicked in his window (which, thankfully, he’d left cracked in the night), climbing through with just enough time to clean himself up and eat a hasty breakfast before heading down the hall to report for duty.

By then his hangover was beginning to fade, and he felt grateful he’d refrained from matching the additional two drinks she’d had; but it did nothing for the on-again-off-again erection which plagued him as memories of that night flashed through his mind seemingly at random. The prospect of shadowing her all day, something he’d done every day for the past nine months, suddenly felt far more daunting than anything in his life ever had. He was only too grateful for the coverage provided by his champions tunic.

Zelda emerged from her chamber, dressed in her formal gown, a little later than usual that morning. Her hair was back to its natural gold, with nary a trace of the die she’d used the night before; but he could see the evidence of her lingering hangover in the weariness of her features, the stiffness of her movements, and the way she subtly flinched at loud noises.

She had a full schedule for the day—morning devotionals, a meeting with her father in the afternoon, a book reading at the Castle Town orphanage in the evening… Part of him had been hoping for perhaps a quiet, private moment to talk about things; she hadn’t given any indication as to what their night together meant to her or how she felt about it. Based on the limited interactions they’d had returning to the castle that morning he wanted to believe she didn’t regret it. Though he wasn’t sure how to approach her—or if he even should—he at least wanted an opportunity to try.

But, no.

They were constantly under the watchful eye of somebody. At the castle shrine there were priests of Hylia surrounding the statue, cleaning the carved stone dais and tending to the shrine’s greenery. He was shunted from the meeting with her father, forced to stand outside with the King’s personal guards—though that was to be expected. Then, at the orphanage, the overly-enthusiastic director hovered like a fretful mother as she read the story of the Hero of time to the enthralled young ones. Even on the ride back to the castle they were escorted by Castle Town guards, despite the Princess’ polite declination.

And through it all, somehow, she’d managed to maintain a facade of perfect calm. He hoped his own mask had held as well as hers. It hadn’t felt like it; because throughout it all, whenever she bent over, whenever she arched her back in just such a way or yawned widely, he couldn’t help but see her keening under his ministrations, couldn’t stop himself from remembering the feel of her mouth around his aching cock. It took all of his self control to keep from fidgeting and maintain a dully neutral expression.

At no point during the day did an opportunity to talk ever appear; and though he suspected he already knew the answer, he was still burning to know for certain, to hear the answer from her own lips: was this a one time thing? He would, of course, respect whatever answer she gave. But if he were honest with himself, he was burning to be with her again. He felt like a man lost in the Gerudo desert who’d been teased with the promise of an oasis. Foolish though it may be, he couldn’t help but hope.

When he was finally given clearance to return to his chamber after dinner, he felt only too grateful for the reprieve. The day had been excruciating, filled with silent torments and reminders of a rapture he would likely never have again. As he entered his room, he quickly shut the door behind himself and slumped against it, letting his mask finally fall and exhaling a long, weary breath.

After several silent moments he forced himself upright, pulling off the master sword and his harnesses. He headed for his desk to set the equipment atop its surface—the sword could due with a cleaning, but stopped just as he reached it. A large book rested on its center—a book which hadn’t been there when he’d left that morning. He hung the sword off the back of his chair instead, picking up the hefty tome and eying the leather-bound cover curiously.

‘The History of the Jig’ was stamped in large serif font, with a smaller subtitle reading, ‘and it’s many derivative dances’. He quirked a brow, opening the cover. He had a suspicion who this was from; and there, on the inside flap, was confirmation in the form of a handwritten dedication.

_Link,_

_I never got a chance to properly thank you for your actions outside the Kara Kara Bazaar. Your bravery and devotion are the only reason I am still alive. Thank you. I know your mother had been the royal dance instructor, and you recently mentioned an interest in the subject. This book is from my personal collection, and I thought it might aid you in your studies. Please take it as a token of my gratitude._

_—Princess Zelda_

Link smiled, though couldn’t help but feel baffled by the timing of it. Why now? And why so pointedly formal? It was almost as though she had written it with the intention of appearing politely distant; but even ignoring the night prior, they had long ago given up such formality with each other in private.

That, and… she had only learned last night about his mother. This gift _couldn’t_ have been planned…

Struck by sudden suspicion, Link flipped to the table of contents and skimmed the small font for... _something_ … Halfway down the page, his eyes caught on a chapter entitled, “The Gavotte Jig”. That seemed likely… He quickly flipped to it, then suddenly stilled, staring at Zelda’s elegant script written in the margins in pencil:

_The Fang and Bone. 10:00pm. Night of the next new moon. Erase when memorized._

Link’s hands slacked and he dropped the book on his desk out of shock where it landed with a thud. Heart beating, he quickly gathered his wits, returning to the page once more, desperate to verify he hadn’t just imaged what he’d read. There it was, plain as day—instructions for another rendezvous. He let out a breathless laugh, a broad smile slowly spreading across his face.

Pulling out an eraser from his desk drawer, he set to destroying the only evidence of their upcoming elicit meeting. He closed the book carefully, bringing it to his small bookcase where he set it on the shelf, fingers lingering on the spine as he stared at it with a faraway smile. They hadn’t necessarily gotten a chance to talk about things, but at least now he knew:

She didn’t regret it, and It wasn’t a one-time thing.

He turned, then, heading straight for his bed. The new moon was in only a few days. He could be patient, endure more days like today so long as he knew he could see her—be with her, again. But in the meantime… He landed on his bed with a thump, quickly divesting himself of his pants as he pulled his erection free of his briefs.

In the meantime he would have much to attend to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for the revised Anger Management! I'd love to know your thoughts on the revision, so please do drop me a comment! I'll have some scattered content coming out over the next couple weeks while I try to finish up the next installment in the Silent Princess Blooming series, so keep an eye out for that as well. As always thank you for reading, and thank you everyone who commented as the chapters came out! You are always so very, very appreciated! I'll see you all again in the next fic :]


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